


Down The Rabbit Hole

by ptbvisiongrrl



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Fandom, LBGT visibility, Multi, Polyamory, bi-sexuality, celebrity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-02-07 07:16:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12836058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptbvisiongrrl/pseuds/ptbvisiongrrl
Summary: New/temporary support staff member on-set starts mid-season, and meets the cast. Over the second half of the season, she gets to know Misha and Jensen better and finds out some interesting truths.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: I cannot believe I am writing this. RPF is kinda creepy, no matter how I look at it. Reading it makes me feel a little…dirty, every time. Doesn’t mean I don’t read it, though. (Doesn’t mean I don’t totally ship Cockles.) But absolutely no offense or slight is meant towards the RP of Supernatural, whom I admire greatly.
> 
> I’m writing an original female character and her meeting of the Supernatural cast. This is because I managed to find myself reading a good OFC at a convention story or two, because I liked something else the author wrote so I gave the RPF a shot. Thanks, TheShyGIrl. And then I liked a couple other RPF against my will. 
> 
> The first step to help is admitting a problem, so here it goes—I am Cockles trash.

FIC TITLE: Down The Rabbit Hole  
Author- PTBvisiongrrl   
Date- 11/26/17  
Chapter(s): 1/?  
Rating – PG-13/T? Talks about polyamory, bisexuality and fandom, but not in explicit detail.   
Pairings/Characters- Misha/Jensen; Jensen/Daneel and Misha/Vicki; J/D/M/V mentioned  
Word Count- 3,353  
Warnings- Spoilers-   
Disclaimers- Unfortunately, I don’t own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don’t sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Winchesters and Angels of the Lord getting some on the show! And Danneel would guest star…

This is my first RPF, and comments/critiques are very, very welcome. 

 

Chapter One:  
Nicole showed up an hour early for her new job, exhausted and panicked. It was her first “real” job, and in a new city, and she was an anxious person to being with. Her aunt had gotten her a temp position while a friend was out on maternity leave. It would only be for three months or so, just until the end of the current shooting season—maybe less, if the new mom changed her mind about how long she’d be out, but Nic didn’t really think that would happen. Even a set of such good looking men wouldn’t be enough to take a new mom away from her kid early. 

Or so Nic hoped. 

Because she was practically hyperventilating at the possibility of spending three months in close proximity to the stars of her favorite TV show. Nic had graduated college mid-year, in December, with a Liberal Arts degree and was having trouble finding a job. In all actuality, Nic had trouble figuring out what job she wanted, which only complicated things when she DID get an interview and that “Why do you want to work for us?” question came up. She didn’t really care, and it was hard to disguise that. Nic had what was called a “glass face.” She couldn’t lie to save her life, because the truth was always there to read. Her aunt’s offer saved her from having to move back home, plus sent her to another city to do it. Not that Nic didn’t love her parents, but her parents were a little too invested in her life right now. 

So all those years of theater camp and drama club and epic Halloween costumes finally paid off, when Nic’s aunt called Nic’s mom to tell her that her aunt’s best friend needed a make-up artist to fill in for three months. Nic had thought at first it was a cosmetics counter girl or some such, and was less than enthusiastic—but once she heard it was on the set of Supernatural, she jumped on it. 

Which is why she was here, make-up case in hand, purse on shoulder, and thick wool mittens doing nothing to keep out the cold, explaining to the lot guard that she was a new employee and early, watching dark tinted SUVs and trucks pass by her and through the yellow robot arm. The guard had called the production office for an escort to come get her, and asked her to wait. 

She understood, but was NOT happy. It was friggin’ cold in January in Vancouver. 

After ten minutes, she tried texting her new boss’s number again, but got no response. When she tapped on the guard’s window, he shook his head in the negative and lifted the phone to call again. Nick considered asking if she could wait in the shed, but it looked like there was barely room for the guard in his heavy winter jacket—which was why she was not facing the road to see the next car pull up and pause next to her, window down to get permission to pass through. 

A gruff voice greeted the guard, then questioned, “What’s that girl freezin’ out here for?”

“New hire. Waiting for production to get her.” Guard shrugged. “Been waiting almost 15 minutes.”

The driver shook his head, and Nic heard a familiar voice bellow out from the back seat. “Hop in, miss. It’s too cold to leave you waiting out here. We’ll drop you at the production office to check in.”

Nic felt her stomach somersault. Crap. She knew this moment would come—she just thought she’d have prior notice with call sheets and such to prepare her reaction. Even feeling like she wanted to puke, though, Nic was too cold to refuse the offer. “Thanks!” she forced a smile, just as the back passenger door opened for her. 

Clif, from the driver’s seat, (the fact that Nic knew the stars’ bodyguard’s name was a sad statement of her super-fan status in and of itself, the result of hours of online convention footage, tweets, and tumblr) nodded. “Jump in!”

Wasting no time, Nic stepped up, putting her huge make-up case on the seat first before smiling shyly at a sleepy, beanied Jared Padalecki. “Thanks so much! It was cold out there.”

Jared laughed, holding a hand out to give her a pull-up into the tall SUV. “No worries. It’s your first day?”

“Yeah,” Nick managed to get out, the scent of freshly showered handsome Texan and good coffee rather unexpected and almost overwhelming. “I’m filling in for Tracy while she’s out on maternity leave.”

“Did she have the baby already? Are they okay?” Jared perked up. “I thought she wasn’t due for two more weeks!”

Nic was surprised Jared knew such details about one of the show’s many support staff, even one he saw every day. “Uh, she’s okay. Baby, too, as far as I know. Tracy just wasn’t feeling up to the long work hours anymore.”

“Oh, good. I thought something might be wrong,” Jared’s wide smile filled the car, which was slowing down and Nick could see the production office coming up. “Well, welcome! I’m Jared, and this is Clif. You are?”

His momma raised him right. That man had manners. “Nicole, but please just call me Nic.” She waved in the rearview mirror to Clif and held out her hand to shake Jared’s. His giant paw wrapped around her cold, mitten encased one and pumped it.

“Nice to meet you, Nic,” Jared replied, and was seconded by Clif, who continued with “Here we are. Good luck!”

Nick thanked the men, suddenly less nervous now that one initial meeting was over and a little proud she had managed to speak back intelligently. “Thanks! See you later!”

cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles

By the time Nic was finished with her final employment paperwork (and she had thought the stack of non-disclosures and such when she had first said yes had been bad!) and had her badge, parking pass, and official make-up kit issued, she was ready to face down her personal anxiety demons. Which was good, because when Terri, the other make-up artist, came to walk her to and show her the set-up, Nic walked into the trailer only to be greeted by Misha Collins himself, already in her chair and waiting. 

Misha was looking at his phone, frowning slightly, when the door banged open and he looked up. The frown was quickly replaced with a gummy smile and quirked eyebrow. “Do we have fresh meat today?”

Nic felt her eyes widen a bit at Misha’s choice of words, but took a deep breath and plunged on as she removed her heavy coat. From all she had heard about him, his quick wit could be biting but he was usually friendly enough to support staff. Of the three leads, she was least intimidated by Misha. He was simply too goofy and real and just…too much like a normal person and not a star. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Collins. I’m Nic, the temp make-up artist, but you may feel free to chew on any of my meat you’d like.” She even managed a wink and devil’s-may-care grin for a couple seconds before making her way confidently over to her chair (obviously hers by the lack of equipment on the matching counter space) where Misha was seated.

Misha’s answering laugh was ear-splitting in the echoing chamber of the metal trailer. “Oh, I like you! I think you will keep things interesting around here.”

“Sorry I’m not ready for you, Mr. Collins. Just got here. I’ll get set up and get started as soon as possible.” Nic turned away and started un-packing.

Terri chuckled and rolled her eyes, straightening containers and checking that all the lids were firmly closed in her kit, back to them both. “Oh, it’s not Misha’s call time. He’s just hanging around looking to annoy people. I have a copy of your schedule for today over here. You have about ten minutes before Jensen gets here.”

Nic dropped her roll of brushes with a clatter but recovered with a deep internal breath. “Oh! Okay. Well, then, Mr. Collins, you can sit there for the next ten minutes, but then you better move your meat to another seat.”

“Misha,” Misha answered, waiting for Nic to look up at him in the mirror and catch her eye. “Call me Misha. I already feel old enough around all these young puppies. Please don’t make me feel like a father figure.”

Nic nodded, biting her lip. Again, trying to be witty while losing her mind. So far she hadn’t crash and burned, but she also didn’t think that she had been all that funny. “Okay. But—don’t you have TWO kids? Like, are an actual father figure?”

“Yes,” Misha chuckled. “I do. And they can call me Mr. Collins. Lovely young women that I have just met, I prefer for them to call me Misha.”

“If I call you what all the other girls call you, I won’t be special.” Nic faked pouted for all of two seconds before a sly smile found its way across her lips. “How about I call you…Dimitri?” Nic challenged again, feeling steadier on her feet by the second and knowing she needed that feeling before Jensen Fuckin’ Ackles planted his perfect ass in her chair in….

Now, six minutes.

Misha smiled all gummy again, looking amused. “No one uses that name if they know me. I hate it.”

“Hate what?” a deep, subtle Texas drawl rolled into the make-up trailer through a suddenly open door.

Oh, fuck me, was all Nic could think before Jensen closed the door behind himself and shook off his heavy coat, already dressed in Dean’s plaid and jeans, the sleeves folded up to expose muscular forearms. Of course he was early. 

Misha stood up and moved over to Terri’s chair to sprawl, indicated his now-open spot to Jensen. “Being called Dimitri.”

Jensen laughed. “Since when?”

Nic’s eyes flicked back and forth between the men, wondering what the hell was going on. From what she heard (albeit on Tumblr blogs from semi-anonymous, at least to her, fans), this was what being around Misha was like; he fucked with everyone and thought too quickly for the average person to keep a step ahead of him. But Jensen was supposed to be infallibly polite, especially to the ladies, until he decided if he liked you; if he didn’t like you, he just didn’t really engage. “Didn’t coordinate your stories on this one ahead of time, Dimitri?” Nic joked as she smiled at both men, trying to still her suddenly racing heart. “Hi, Mr. Ackles, I’m Nic, short for Nicole. I’m here until Tracy gets back from maternity leave.”

“Did she go early?” Jensen questioned, concern evident in his tone and facial expression.

Nic smiled back, an honest smile. These guys were acting like real people, not snotty stars, and she was so very happy. She had feared working on the set would destroy the fan experience for her; thankfully, her first impression was that it would not. “No, not yet. She just needed some rest before the final event. Both she and the baby are just fine.”

“Good,” Jensen nodded. “Nice to meet you, Nic. I’m just Jensen. And ignore anything Dimitri tells you. He’s like that two brother logic challenge, trying to figure out which is lying to you when one only tells the truth and the other only lies.”

Nic laughed at that. “Oh, Dimitri and I will get along just fine.” And Nic smiled broadly at Misha just as she said it, catching his eye looking up from his phone again. 

“Listen, Nic—“ Misha started, humor still in his eyes, thankfully.

“What’s the problem, Dimitri?” Jensen chimed, smiling wide.

Misha sighed, and arched one eyebrow up high enough to disappear beneath his not-yet-product-covered hair. “You know what hearing that name does to me, Jen. You said we were going to keep it just between us, but if you don’t mind sharing—“

Looking at the shooting schedule and scene descriptions, Nic gathered her tools, which required her to turn her back on the men. And this was where Nic-the-professional and Nic-the-fangirl parted ways. Locking up a Holy fuck!, Nic turned around to face her client. Nic-the-fangirl would have fainted at laying hands on Jensen Ackles’s freckled face. Nic-the-professional simply ran through a quick verbal review of today’s scenes and explained what make-up products she was going to use, what were different from the usual, at least in the notes given to her with her kit.

Jensen nodded, easy going about it and smiling. “Whatever you think makes me pretty is good enough with me.”

Nic raised her own smart-ass eyebrow at him, but declined making a comment, despite the thousand and one snarks that flooded her mind. Jensen kept her eyes, waiting, but all she did was smile back and get on with her job. 

Being new, and Jensen being Jensen (meaning talking constantly to Misha and turning to face him without thinking about it) make-up took a little longer than it should have, but just by a few minutes. Misha and Jensen kept up a running commentary, talking about the last convention—not the parts Nic could watch on Youtube, but the cast dinner and after-concert party. Nic picked up all sorts of tidbits that made her inner-fangirl squee, despite knowing she would not be sharing any of it. Nic knew she was in a place of privilege, plus she really couldn’t afford to get sued for breaking her NDAs. Every once in a while, the men would try and pull Nic into the conversation, but she kept her comments back to them light and friendly, avoiding her earlier overt playfulness to concentrate on her job. 

Once she was finished and told Jensen he was ready to go, Jensen nodded and rose without even looking in the mirror to check on her. Nic was kind of happy about that, but wasn’t sure if it was just that he trusted her to be a professional that didn’t need to be checked, or if he was that trusting all the time. “Thanks, Nic, and welcome aboard.”

Nic had known the cast was really tall—and that though Jensen might look small next to Jared on a stage or on a computer screen, he really wasn’t. She had never seen them standing in person before, though, and was amazed at how small her 5’ 3” self was suddenly feeling in front of Jensen as she had to crane her neck to look up at him. “Thanks.”

Jensen waited in the make-up trailer for Misha to finish, sprawling over a spare chair and making comments: about the wrinkles being covered, the dark circles from staying out late last night, and yes, an obligatory comment about gray roots. Misha took it all well until Terri was almost finished, which is when he finally broke and kicked Jensen out of the trailer. Jensen cocked his head and shrugged at the directive, leaning down to loudly whisper into Misha’s ear, “Okay, Dimitri.” Then smiling at Misha’s frown and patting Misha’s shoulder, Jensen said a good-bye to all and walked out. 

Misha sat muttering to himself about Jackles while Terri finished up and Nic found herself waiting for her next appointment—Jared. He was due in less than five minutes, but Terri saw Nic rushing her clean-up and told her to relax. “Jared is never on time, hun. Ever. The day he is, something is wrong.”

Nic frowned. “Really? Always late? That seems—“

“Unprofessional?” Misha provided from his spot in Terri’s chair. “Immature? Disrespectful? Rude?”

Nic stuttered trying to come up with a neutral, less harsh response, and Misha just watched her, chuckling. “I don’t think—“

Misha snorted. “Trying to be nice. I get it. But he IS always late, so relax.”

“Is that why Clif didn’t bring Jensen in with him today?” Nic asked, trying to keep conversation going neutrally. “I had been waiting outside for at least 10 minutes, since I was early. Clif and Jared were sweet enough to give me a ride to the production office to keep me from turning into an ice statue.” 

Nic felt creepy-crawlies under her skin at the lack of response. Something was off. But then Misha was ready, and Terri was kicking him out. In the quiet wake of Misha’s departure, Terri gave Nic some advice. “I know this is your first job, so I’m going to give you some free advice. The talent around here is nice, and friendly, and handsome. But the talent is the talent.”

Nic frowned, internally wincing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be too friendly. This is my first job like this.”

Terri shook her head. “Not what I’m worried about, Nic. I know those boys, know this set. You step outta line, someone’ll let you know quick. I just know how attractive men affect young girls’ heads. Keep yours on your shoulders, straight, and it’ll all be fine.”

“Was that too friendly with Misha?” Nic started breathing a little too fast, feeling her anxiety build and combine with a delayed reaction to meeting and talking with both Misha and Jensen. 

“No, no,” Terri saw the rising panic and put a hand on Nic’s shoulder. “He’s like that with everyone. All three of the boys prefer you to be joking than silent. Just how they are.”

“Okay,” Nic took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I just don’t want to mess up and act like a crazy fangirl.”

Terri laughed. “You wouldn’t be the first, definitely not the last—but I don’t think Tracy would have you here if she thought you’d do that. I’ll go roust Jared from playing video games in his trailer or whatever it is he lost himself in, along with the time.” Patting Nic’s shoulder reassuringly, Terri went back to her own station and picked up her cell phone to text Jared, letting Nic gather herself.

Nic nodded thanks and went back to straightening things up, paying no mind to her surroundings in the empty trailer. She was in the supply closet, looking for some tissues and wipes to put at her station when she heard the door. Calling out, Nic said, “I’ll be right there, Jared! Just get comfortable.”

But when she came out, it was Jensen back in her chair, and Jared not in sight. “Uh, did I forgot something, Jensen?”

Jensen studied her, carefully, and smiled. “No, Nic, nothing. Just waiting for Jared, AGAIN.”

“Me, too,” Nic smiled, as she was unsure what else to say. Jensen made her far more nervous than Jared or even Misha.

“So, this is your first day. Are you from Vancouver?” Jensen shifted in the seat, taking his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it but keeping the majority of his attention on her. 

Licking her lips, air suddenly as precious as gold to her malfunctioning lungs, Nic tried to keep her voice even. “Uh, no. Just here for the job. From Albuquerque, originally. Went to school in Ohio. Graduated college last semester.”

“You don’t look old enough to have graduated college yet,” Jensen noted with a slight upturn of his mouth. “But I shouldn’t judge books by their cover.”

“No, you should not,” Nic agreed. “I did graduate, a semester late even, so I’m already—gasp—23.” Nic leaned back against her station counter and crossed her arms. She hated having her youth used against her, and let a tiny sliver of her resentment through in the tone she used. “But I guess to old men like you and Dimitri, I do look awfully young.”

“Ouch,” Jensen made a face. “But I deserved that.”

“Yeah, pops, you did, a little.” Nic shrugged at him. “But I get it. Razz the new kid and all that. Just remember who makes you look good for the camera, ‘kay?”

Jensen full out body laughed. “Misha was right. Things will not be boring with you around.”


	2. Chapter 2

FIC TITLE: Down The Rabbit Hole  
Author- PTBvisiongrrl   
Date- 12/10/17  
Chapter(s): 2/?  
Rating – PG-13/T? Talks about polyamory, bisexuality and fandom, but not in explicit detail.   
Pairings/Characters- Misha/Jensen; Jensen/Daneel and Misha/Vicki; J/D/M/V mentioned  
Word Count- 1,424  
Warnings- Spoilers-   
Disclaimers- Unfortunately, I don’t own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don’t sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Winchesters and Angels of the Lord getting some on the show! And Danneel would guest star…  
Summary-   
New/temporary support staff member on-set starts mid-season, and meets the cast. Over the second half of the season, she gets to know Misha and Jensen better and finds out some interesting truths.

 

Chapter Two  
It took five days for the nausea Nic felt each morning to fade some—though not go away entirely yet. She had always felt her nerves in her guts, way back to middle school. It took until 8th grade before she didn’t feel like throwing up at least once a day, usually after some self-perceived preteen cultural misstep. Her on-set nausea picked back up, however, whenever an actor or producer she recognized was around (Bob Singer in particular made her exceedingly nervous—she lost her ability to speak around him), or she was on set waiting to do touch ups. Jared needed them pretty frequently—he really did sweat a lot, and goofed around when not on camera, smearing things. By Friday morning, the last shooting day this week (because of a convention), her stomach had finally settled down into happier butterflies. She had made it through her first week without any major screw-ups or embarrassing incidents, and had been invited for the episode end-of-shoot SPN crew Happy Hour at a local bar after wrapping today. She was settling in, and rather proud of herself. 

Nic should have known better than to get mentally complacent. It always seemed to bite her in the ass. 

Knowing Jared had first spot on her appointment sheet this morning, Nic assumed she’d have more than a few minutes to herself, given how late he seemed to usually run. Terri was out on a location shoot with Mary Winchester and the Men of Letters cast, and it was just Nic in the trailer. Popping her I-Pod into its speakers, Nic hit the SPN Playlist she had kept for years, enjoying the older rock songs and unconsciously singing along. It wasn’t loud, but the longer she spent setting up and the more comfortable she got, the more into it she got. By the time Wayward Son came on, she was louder than the device itself, especially as the song got close to the end. 

Nic didn’t realize just how loud she had become until a louder voice with much better pitch joined hers, making her shriek and whip around, face candy-apple red. “Holy fuck!” she gasped, feeling herself grow light-headed when she realized her unasked-for duet partner was none other than Jensen-fucking-Ackles. 

Jensen smiled widely as he continued to sing—to her. The song was just about done, and once the last strains died out Jensen reached over to pause the player. “Sorry, Nic. Didn’t really mean to scare you that bad,” he apologized in his charming, honest-and-not-put-on way, ducking his head a little and politely keeping the humorous smile to a mere twitch of his lips at the corner now that he was finished singing. 

Nic continued to breathe, forcing air into her empty lungs and as she struggled to come up with a witty response but finding, “That was such a dick move!” the only words currently at her disposal. 

Jensen chuckled again, shrugged, and agreed. “Sorry. But the look on your face!”

Awallowed hard a few times, Nic tried to find her Zen from earlier again. “If it wasn’t my job to keep you pretty, I’d punch you in the face for that.”

Jensen’s smile got bigger, appreciating her spunk (or at least that was what Nic told herself, realizing she’d essentially threatened to assault one of the show’s leads). “Jared’s tied up with a call from his publicist, so he’s gonna be later than his usual, no doubt. I figured I’d come in early and let you maybe keep schedule.”

Dammit. Now she felt bad for her mean words when he was trying to be helpful. 

“Thanks,” Nic mumbled, reaching for the lighter shades she needed to use on Jensen’s fairer complexion. Jared was always tanned, and didn’t have freckles to cover up, so Nic had pretty much two separate kits for each of them. 

“No problem,” Jensen smiled, an honest smile. “I am sorry I scared you. Most people are used to random incidents like that around here. I forgot how new you are.”

Snorting, Nic turned with makeup in hand and started applying the base for the black eye she would be building up shortly. “It’s your age related memory loss.”

“Ouch,” Jensen faked a chest pain but settled docilely into the chair for her to work her magic.

Despite her current fluster level, Nic was determined to act like a normal, professional person and not a star struck fan. She glued the small prosthetic of a swollen eye on, added Jensen’s base coat of make-up, and blended the layers quickly, not making any attempt to talk other than directing Jensen to turn more or look up. Her embarrassment at getting caught out singing like that, and to Wayward Son no less, sat heavy on her chest. Nic thought she was pulling it off pretty well.

After Jensen left with friendly, non-mocking words, Nic had to let her head drop forward, contemplating the big ball of embarrassment that had taken up residence in her stomach and allowing a huge sigh to escape. Anxiety sucked. It took a few minutes, all the while carefully calming her racing heart, but she had gathered it back together by the time Jared finally wandered in. 

Well, she held it together until Misha came through the door singing Wayward Son at the top of his lungs on his way to her chair, about an hour after Jared left. 

Luckily, Nic was straightening up her counter when Misha barreled in, and took a few seconds to gather herself after her initial jump at the volume and surprise of the entrance before turning around to face the man. “That mother fucker told you.”

Misha smiled warmly, crinkly eyes twinkling as he chuckled. “Oh, yeah. But don’t worry, Jensen only told me--he didn’t tell Jared. THAT would be bad.”

Nic just shook her head and motioned to her chair. Misha was the most compliant of the three stars, hardly ever needing to be reminded to look up or turn back unless the boys were in the trailer with him. He was never silent, but Misha had a pretty good handle on meeting one’s eyes in the mirror during conversation instead of having to try and face his conversation partner. “Jensen said you had a pretty good voice.”

Nic continued with her job, ignoring the compliment, so Misha continued to rib her a little. “He said you turned a really pretty shade, too.”

Blowing out a sign, Nic scowled. “Yes, being scared to death does that. My face was a pretty impressive red. Wish I could replicate it for a lipstick. It’d sell out.”

Misha’s eyes closed slightly, just enough that Nic’s inner fanfiction writer would have called them hooded right before some other equally erotic term. “He said pink.” The air in the trailer suddenly felt heavy and pressed down around her as Misha’s eye dropped to the V of her t-shirt before meeting her gaze again. “I guess he wasn’t looking at your face.”

Nic actually stopped short with what she was doing. Her inner fangirl wanted to know what the fuck was going on, holding in mental stuttering; her rational self shook its head and said to laugh it off. The inner decision to pick a reaction apparently took a moment too long, because Misha smiled a regular, quirky Misha smile and the moment was gone. “But you are officially in like Flynn, now, because Jackles doesn’t fuck with you unless he actually likes you as a person. Sort of like cats playing with their food before eating it.”

Those words did not spur Nic on to more rational thought, although she did prod her body into moving to complete her work. The images of being played with and then eaten by Jensen Ackles, even a mouse-her and cat-him, were taking over her mind, and she had to shake them off. Real world, she mentally repeated like a mantra for meditation. In the real world, that is just metaphorical. Real world…

Went out the window when she managed to force out a dismissal for Misha. “Okay, you’re finished. Get outta here.”

Misha stayed in his chair until Nic spun around to face him directly, brushes and cleaner cloth gripped tightly. “Yes, Dmitri?” she sighed, waiting for more ribbing. 

Misha smiled up at her. “I like you. You can hold your own. You don’t fold up and stutter or pass out like most girls.” Rising he nodded to himself, waved to Nic, and then clattered down the trailer’s metal steps.


	3. Chapter 3

FIC TITLE: Down the Rabbit Hole  
Author- PTBvisiongrrl   
Date- 12/17/17  
Chapters: 3/?  
Rating – PG-13/T? Talks about polyamory, bisexuality and fandom, but not in explicit detail.   
Pairings/Characters- Misha/Jensen; Jensen/Daneel and Misha/Vicki; J/D/M/V mentioned  
Word Count- 2,766  
Warnings- Spoilers-   
Disclaimers- Unfortunately, I don’t own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don’t sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Winchesters and Angels of the Lord getting some on the show! And Danneel would guest star…wait, I got my wish!!!  
Summary-   
New/temporary support staff member on-set starts mid-season, and meets the cast. Over the second half of the season, she gets to know Misha and Jensen better and finds out some interesting truths.

Chapter Three  
Happy hour on Friday with the crew was fun, but Nic was careful to keep her level of imbibing down to semi-professional levels. She had never been the social butterfly, preferring a few really good friends to a crowd of acquaintances, staying home and actually getting to know people rather than shouting over music, but Nic forced herself to play the adult who would like to keep this job, and maybe find another one in the same field when this one ended in three months. So she talked to people, asked questions, learned names and jobs and a few personal facts to help her remember it all come sober Monday morning. Nic then called it a night at a respectable 10 o’clock, planning on taking advantage of the weekend off.

Saturday was errand day. Sleeping in past sunrise was heaven, as well as napping in the afternoon. Early morning set calls, no matter how early she might try to go to bed, still kicked her ass, and the extra sleep was really needed. Groceries were bought, as well as a small supply of alcohol, before picking up a few things she needed for her new apartment (like a mop and bucket). She even squeezed in some shopping at a second hand bookstore, picking up a local history book and an anthology of poetry. 

Sunday was chore day. She still slept in a few hours past sunrise, but then was up and about. There was cleaning and laundry to do, as well as the weekly call home. Calling home these days was a chore in and of itself—her parents still pushing her for ‘real employment’ career plans and her trying to avoid conflict over her life choices. Being only an efficiency apartment, cleaning didn’t take very long, but laundry required a trip to the basement laundry room she had yet to see. The building only had three machines; since one had an “Out of Order” sign, and one was already gurgling away with someone else’s dirties, Nic was going to have to hang out for a bit with her two loads. So, time to kill.

Her new phone (she had needed one just for Canada) didn’t have any fun apps yet and the laundry room was like a Faraday cage. It would take forever to download any good games. She hadn’t thought to bring something else to do, either, and her limited music only held half her attention. Not being able to focus on anything forced her mind to wander, which was never good for her. Her anxiety would climb, and spiral, and leave her a mess if she didn’t THINK about something trivial but entertaining, but she really couldn’t come up with anything. So she decided that sitting out in the hall was close enough to keep her eye on the machines, and indulged herself despite the slow download speed. She went to YouTube and pulled up video from this weekend’s Saturday Night Special. 

SNS was always a hoot to watch. Dick Speight and Rob Benedict were funny, funny men and Rob had a voice that hit all sorts of good spots in her. Matt Cohen was adorable, and the ladies of SPN always made her smile…and drool a little. But then holy fuck, there was Jensen—and Misha—singing together. 

What the serious fuck. Jensen rarely sang that song in public. Nic had searched for it hard enough…and Misha so rarely sang at all, unless it was with his kids. And all after Friday’s day of mocking her. She watched their performance three times through, shaking her head at herself the entire time, before deciding that Solitaire would be a good enough way to pass the rest of the time. An hour or so later, girding herself for a return to work on Monday, Nic finally gathered up her baskets of clean laundry and headed back upstairs to her apartment. 

cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles

Monday dawned bright and early a couple hours AFTER Nic was already working on set. The boys looked no more awake than she felt, despite very large and rather empty cups of coffee clutched in hands. “Fun weekend?” she poked when Jensen slumped into her chair. 

Yawning, his eyes half-open at best, “Yeah. Fun.” His voice was scratchy and deeper than usual.

“Saturday Night Special looked like fun on YouTube,” Nic offered, smiling. “You and Misha seemed to enjoy my song.”

Jensen was actually caught a little off guard, she thought, his usual smile slow to spread and a slight pink visible across the freckles she hadn’t yet covered with make-up. “Your performance made me think of it. It’s a fun song to sing, you know,” he answered.

“Then why don’t you sing it more often? I think that’s only the second or third time I’ve ever seen you perform it,” Nic asked, gently, as she continued applying extra concealer to cover the dark circles Jensen was sporting. 

“Too iconic,” a familiar voice answered from a now-open doorway. “Don’t want to overdo it, you know,” Misha added as he collapsed into the open chair. 

Nic raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I figured it was just too intimidating a song to perform for that crowd. No way in hell you could make a mistake on it and NOT hear about it. Repeatedly. All weekend.” Then she went back to work, frowning, as nothing seemed to work against Jensen’s dark circles. 

Misha smirked as he watched Nic work, laughing when he caught her eye. “Jackles always has bags like that after a convention. Don’t stress it too much. Not much helps but sleep.”

Jensen’s face immediately folded into sucked-on-a-lemon indignation. “Like you look any better, old man!”

Misha laughed heartily. “I have the good sense not to stay up drinking and carousing all weekend when I have to be on screen the next workday.”

“Because you’re an old man and can’t hang!” Jensen spat back, settling back into the chair. “It’s not that bad, right, Nic?”

Nic had to bite her lip before answering, composing herself. “No. It’s not that bad,” she repeated as requested. “It’s worse. I can’t cover these suitcases with normal makeup.”

“What?” Jensen shot up and studied himself in the mirror. “Fuck. Can’t you make it look better than that?”

“Give me a couple hours while you nap, and yes, I most definitely can,” Nic snarked back. “In the meantime, I’ve got some super-duper tattoo cover up that will cover the color, but not much is going to help with the swelling except cold rags, which will wash all your make-up off and take about an extra hour. The tattoo cover up will feel similar to a prosthetic, it’s that thick, and takes extra work to wash off. You cannot touch it once it’s on—its like chipping nail polish. I’d have to take it all off and start over again; if I spackled, it would be too obvious. Your choice.”

Jensen sighed and leaned back in the chair. “Tattoo spackle, please.”

“Good call,” Nic answered and got started. “And don’t skip so much sleep at conventions. I hear you need an extra hour of sleep for every decade of life…so you should be heading to bed at, like, 9 PM.” She just smiled brightly at Jensen’s answering frown.

Jensen closed his eyes and dozed as Nic worked, the spackle taking more time than usual make-up and more of her attention. Misha played on his phone most of the time but also studied Nic—not that she noticed that he was watching her, until she was putting the finishing touches on Jensen just as she spied the bruise on the side of his neck, slightly visible above the collar of his t-shirt. Sighing, she tilted Jensen’s head to the side rather abruptly. “If you have visible hickies, please tell me when you sit down. It’s easier to cover them if I start with them and work the shades up from there. Especially on spackle days.”

Jensen and Misha had both startled when she had exposed the bruise. Jensen was clearly perturbed by her attention and words, though Misha flicked his eyes back to his phone quickly. Jensen managed to stutter out an “Okay,” but it was nowhere near his usual tone or volume. 

Nic shook her head and applied cream in multiple layers to wash out the bruising while matching the already applied foundation. Ten additional minutes and no one would be able to tell Jensen had a hickey, except the person who had given it to him.

And that was Nic’s, “Oh, fuck!” moment. Because she knew who had NOT been at the convention with the SPN boys.

Their wives. Misha and Jensen had talked a little about what the wives had been up to on their own with the kids when they first got into the trailer. This had been a solo, business-only convention sandwiched in the middle of filming. 

Nic slumped forward, sighing, before tapping Jensen on the shoulder in dismissal. She really wished that she hadn’t discovered that hickey. “You’re as pretty as you’re going to get today without a nap.”

Shaking his own head, Jensen sighed as he studied his reflection. “You are a magician, Nic.”

“I know,” Nic managed to joke back, her heart heavy with her unhappy realization about someone she had truly admired. 

“See you on set, Mish,” Jensen tossed over his shoulder, leaving with his coffee in hand. 

Misha moved over to her seat and leaned back, holding his arms out in presentation. “Beautify this old man, magician lady.”

Nic had to smile and chuckle, despite her now less-than-good mood. “For the love of Chuck, you two act like you are 80. You are barely even old enough to be my father. You aren’t old if you are in my dating range, Misha.”

“Kink for older men,” Misha acted like he was writing in a notebook, dramatically flipping the non-existent page. “Good to know.”

Crossing her arms, Nic smiled teasingly, trying to be coy yet assertive. After all, she didn’t start the flirting, but it was really fun with a master flirter like Misha Collins. And she could use the pick me up right now, so why the hell not? “If you are going to record all my kinks, you’re going to need a much bigger imaginary notebook.”

Misha’s eyes sparkled at her and his lips quirked up into the beginning of a smirk. “You are so much fun to play with, Nic.” Dramatically laying back, closing his eyes and settling in. “Tell me more while you work. What items we can tick off?”

“It would be easier to just ask what I don’t like,” Nic played back, trying to lighten her heavy, disappointed heart.

Misha tensed in the chair, she could tell, and wondered what his own views were on the matter. But she decided to push, just to see if she could rattle Misha Collins just a little. Leaning close to his ear, and dropping the register of her voice to say, “I like lots of things I’m not supposed to like.”

One practically iridescent blue eye popped open and tried to meet her eyes—quite a feat given the angle. “I believe I’m trying to compile that list right now.”

“Why?” Nic challenged, brave in the moment. She was interested in his response. “I mean, I really don’t enjoy feeling like a captured fly about to get my wings pulled off.”

Misha sat up straight in the chair, forcing Nic to stand back a step or two. “I am a pacifist. I would never pull the wings off a fly, especially such a beautiful and talented one. If anything I say or do makes you uncomfortable, tell me. I’ll stop. I don’t want to be an ass.” Misha’s blue eyes were wide and honest, forcing Nic to avert her gaze to something less riveting.

Nic’s face blushed, but the warmth in her smile was genuine. “Don’t worry, we haven’t even hit yellow yet.”

Misha shook his head. “Obviously the list includes some fun, fun items if you throw safe words around like that.”

Nic bit her lip, considering plunging off the cliff versus keeping her distance. While she was truly bothered by her new knowledge of Jensen, she had no such images of Misha, who had been fairly open about his interesting sexual past with fans before. “Stop lights are for new partners. I don’t share such personal information easily, even with handsome, funny television angels.”

“Oh, now it’s officially a challenge,” Misha answered, leaning back and studying her. “I like puzzles to solve.”

Nic met Misha’s eyes, so devilish. “Fair warning-- I like to solve puzzles, too, Dmitri. So, before I start, do you have any hickies or other blemishes I need to work on first?”

The slightly longer than normal pause told Nic all she needed to know before Misha even answered, his eyes narrowed and measuring her as he spoke carefully chosen words. “No, there aren’t any on me that need to be covered for filming.”

Contemplating Misha’s response, Nic began layering concealer over Misha’s own dark circles. She noted that Misha did not deny having hickies of his own, simply stated that none were visible. Nic had dutifully read The Threesome Handbook like all good fangirls, and felt rather sure of her assessment. “Good to know your partner isn’t such a dumbass as to give an actor a visible bruise.” She deliberately studied Misha’s reaction, and was positive—there was a bruise somewhere on him, just not where she (or anyone else not sleeping with him) could see it. There was a flash of heat across his face, but not enough for her to be sure, so she pushed again. “I’ve outgrown the gullibility of believing someone fell on a bottle cap or got accidentally stuck to a vacuum cleaner while it was turned on. I’m not sure anyone really ever bought that, anyway. I think it was code for Please don’t make me explain! when your parents asked you about it.” Nic spared a moment to consider her words, but pushed ahead anyway. “So what do you actors say when some make-up girl asks you how you got one?”

Misha shifted in the chair, subtly, still not giving Nic a good enough tell to figure out for sure. “Most actors would probably not answer, if a make-up girl got ballsy enough to ask.” Misha studied Nic’s eyes in the mirror, watching her facial expressions closely to make sure she understood that she was not being rebuked for real. “But why act like a hickey is something to be ashamed of?”

Nic could answer that one. “Shame in flaunting the fact you were engaged in the activities that caused it is deeply ingrained where I come from. My high school actually sent you home if you had a hickey showing, unless you covered it up with band aids…not that band aids actually disguised what it was. Stupid, really, but shaming is still most people’s default setting.”

“Sometimes bearing the shame is well worth it for the pleasure received,” was all Misha answered, eyes now closed. 

“There really isn’t any shame in it at all,” Nic pressed. “But hickies are extra work to cover up, which could be so easily avoided. I mean, there are plenty of less visible places that would feel just as good…”

Misha straightened himself up in the chair again, obviously weighing a response. Deciding to one-up the man, something Nic was discovering was a rare occurrence and she really, really wanted to do, she licked her lips and smirked before replying. “I mean, less visible thin skin has major arteries, too. Inner thigh. Wrist. Bend of the elbow.” She touched each spot on herself as she said it, making Misha’s eyes follow her movement until he realized it and sat back again. “It all feels just as good.”

Misha shrugged. “To each their dumbass own, I guess,” he said, squirming back into the chair and letting Nic return to work without further interruptions.


	4. Chapter 4

FIC TITLE: Down the Rabbit Hole  
Author- PTBvisiongrrl   
Date- 12/29/17  
Chapters: 4/?  
Rating – PG-13/T? Talks about polyamory, bisexuality and fandom, but not in explicit detail.   
Pairings/Characters- Misha/Jensen; Jensen/Daneel and Misha/Vicki; J/D/M/V mentioned  
Word Count- 2,210

Warnings- Spoilers-   
Disclaimers- Unfortunately, I don’t own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don’t sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Winchesters and Angels of the Lord getting some on the show! And Danneel would guest star…I got my wish!!!  
Summary-   
New/temporary support staff member on-set starts mid-season, and meets the cast. Over the second half of the season, she gets to know Misha and Jensen better and finds out some interesting truths.

Chapter Four  
Over the next few weeks, beginning to settle in to a comfortable routine, Nic found that she really, really loved her job. She had never considered using her hobby-skills of make-up and costuming to make a living. Really, she hadn’t given much thought to what she wanted to do for a living, because nothing had called out that strongly to her. The more time she spent on set—not just on her job, but observing and learning about other jobs that were part and parcel of producing a popular TV show—the more thankful she was to have been given this opportunity. 

The gorgeous, funny, smart people she got to meet as part of her job, and the time she got to spend with the three leads, were a bonus. An awesome bonus, but just a bonus. She didn’t do her job just to be able to see Jared, Jensen, and Misha. 

She got a professional ‘break’ about a month after she had started. A new supernatural species was making an appearance in an upcoming episode, and Nic was asked to develop a look for it, given that there would be a real actress playing the role and her appearance could not just be added all in by special effects later. A water witch, who could appear entirely human or elemental, some old school Celtic version of a sinister sea nymph, according to what Andrew Dabb explained to her. 

The next week—TV had a tight timeline, and given Nic’s new status, anything she produced for the character would have to wind a bit of the way up the WB chain for approval—was a blur of regular duties coupled with lots of research and sketching, and a few late nights in the make-up trailer after-hours working on a model. There was even one up-all-night/work-all-day session, a truly miserable experience that Nic was determined never to live through again. But the final product got a great deal of praise, not just from Terri and the Art Department, or even producers.

Nic had accidentally left the model out on her work station the previous night, so tired to her bones that she was like a zombie making her way home and crashing for three hours before coming right back in. She stumbled into the trailer mere minutes ahead of Jensen and Misha, who were filming together that day while Jared had the day off. While Misha sat himself down to let Nic get to business, Jensen zeroed in on her water-witch model. “What’s this?” he had asked, almost touching it before Nic smacked his hand away.

“Trying out the look for that new character coming up, the water witch.” Nic continued to work on Misha, but kept an eye out on Jensen. While Jensen didn’t tend to break things like Jared, Nic had invested entirely took much into the model at this point to be comfortable with anyone touching it. “Don’t touch.”

A look of impish consideration passed over Jensen’s face, but he quickly shut it down and agreed. “Looks great, by the way,” he said as he sat down in an empty chair, off to the side. 

“Thanks,” Nic smiled, turning away from Misha for just a moment to look at Jensen. 

Misha squinted through one eye at Nic. “It does look great. Do you do art or sculpture, too?”

Nic laughed. “No. I do some costume sketching, cos-play construction, but not REAL art.”

Jensen interjected. “Those are REAL art, too.”

“Okay,” Nic agreed, a little surprised at the vehemence in Jensen’s voice about it. “But I’ve never been paid for that art before, how’s that?”

“Fair enough,” Jensen agreed, turning back to his phone. “Although, looking at just that example, you should be paid for it.”

Nic smiled at the compliment and Jensen let the matter drop. Misha did as well, although he had a strange smile on his face for the rest of their session and disappeared with barely a “Later!” when it was finally Jensen’s turn. Jensen seemed non-plussed, though, so Nic let it go without comment, answering Jensen’s inquiries about her art interests while she worked. 

“I don’t really sketch. I design costumes.” Nic shrugged at Jensen’s frown. “I mean, I picture the character and clothes in its setting in my head, I just don’t draw all that background stuff out. I’m not very good at it, and there’s no reason to turn a sketch for a dress into the freakin’ Last Supper.”

“Have you tried to sketch recently?” Jensen inquired. “Sometimes you just gotta plow through. You don’t get better if you don’t keep at it.”

“I have tried to expand sketches. They just never work out the way I want them to, so I stopped doing it.” Nic shrugged. “Just like I can play piano, but I could never write original music for it.”

Jensen nodded. “I get that. But sometimes you just need to give it a real try, and see what happens. You might surprise yourself.”

“Every once in a while, I do give it a shot. Sometimes it works out and it isn’t a piece of crap. One piece I worked on, it turned out good enough that someone posted it on-line and it got a lot of traffic. But it was just that one—“ Nic cut herself off. Please don’t let Jensen ask to see it or what it was. Please, don’t. She had spoken without thinking clearly, being so tired. 

But Murphy’s Law, for the love of Chuck, was invoked, of course. “What was the piece that got so much attention?”

Nic couldn’t make the words come out, and couldn’t find any other words to dodge the bullet coming, so she shrugged. “Just an illustration for an AU fan fiction. Nothing original or anything like that.”

“Which fandom?” Jensen asked, his voice honestly curious. 

“I’d rather not say?” Nic managed to squeak out. 

Jensen sighed and cracked an eye open. “Well, now I know which fandom. I’m almost afraid to ask what the picture was.”

“I’d rather not say,” Nic stated more firmly. 

Jensen smirked. “I might have already seen it. Might even have signed it. Lots of fans bring fan art to autos.”

“Yes, you have seen it. Yes, you did sign a copy of it for someone.” Nic had trouble regulating her breathing, feeling anxiety creeping in, but she was determined not to break down. “But that’s as much as I’m telling you, Jensen. I never expected to work here, or meet you guys, and this is awkward.”

Jensen laughed. “Were you drawing pornographic pictures of Dean Winchester?”

Nic felt calmer at Jensen’s tone. He did not appear upset, and she was suddenly very curious to peak behind the fan-wall. “Does it bother you that art like that exists out there?”

“Doesn’t really matter if I do, does it? It’s still out there,” Jensen shrugged.

“But how do you feel about it?” Nic asked. 

“Some of its good. Some of it is…embarrassing.” Jensen made a very Dean face of dismissal. “Honestly, I avoid it as much as possible. Its just harder to avoid than, say, fanfiction.”

“I’m sorry.” Nic said.

“For what? Your pornographic fan art?” Jensen was smiling, so Nic figured he wasn’t that upset. 

Nic tried not to smile, turning a little pink. “It was not pornographic, I’ll have you know. But for not really appreciating how it might make the inspirations feel.”

Jensen considered her face for a minute, those emerald green eyes studying hers. “Thanks. You are the first fan-artist to address that to me.”

“You’re welcome.” Nic nodded in reply, and returned to her job. “And my art was totally punked out Dean and Cas, BTW.”

“That’s not fan art. At least, not of me.” Jensen laughed.

“I will admit I might have studied some Ten Inch Hero footage,” Nic agreed. “In all honesty, I didn’t pay that much attention to Boaz in the first few viewings, though.”

Jensen put his hand to his heart. “Ouch.”

Nic smiled brightly at him. “Sorry, but as handsome as you are, Jensen…you married up.”

Shaking his head, Jensen agreed. “And don’t I know it.”

Frowning internally, Nic almost made a comment about his hickey before biting it back. “So my art doesn’t weird you out at all?”

“Still not sure what piece it was, but nah. We’re good.” Jensen sat back again, letting Nic continue. “Although now I’ve got to figure out what piece it was. I’ve signed it, punk Cas and Dean, fan-fiction illustration. I think I can figure it out. Or Misha can.”

“Please, don’t!” Nic squeaked. “You don’t want to go looking on the Internet for this, really. Not so much my piece but others’ work you may stumble across while you’re looking…” If Jensen was not comfortable with fan art, he was would be much more bothered after looking through Tumblr.

“Okay,” Jensen laughed, really laughed. “So show me yours. Then I don’t have to look.”

Hanging her head, partially in shame as well as defeat, Nic agreed. “I will. But let me have time to find a good quality picture of it, okay? So not right now.”

“As long as you really show me,” Jensen agreed. 

Nic agreed, and went back to silence to finish her work. Jensen left with a gentle reminder, “Tomorrow, okay, Punk Picasso?”

cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles

Jensen was first on the call sheet the next morning, and she dutifully had a higher-resolution file of her artwork loaded to her phone. While her piece was far from pornographic, it was suggestive. Punk Dean was holding the back of Punk Cas’s neck, thumb brushing against a lip stud piercing while gazing into blue eyes. Nic worried how Jensen might react; she was fairly certain shipper Misha wouldn’t bat an eye. She was not going to bring her art up, however; if Jensen remembered and asked, fine. But she wasn’t going to tie the noose of utter embarrassment around her neck herself.

Nic didn’t have to. Misha came barreling into the make-up trailer with Jensen, and immediately demanded to see it. “Nic, you have been holding out on us! Let’s see this pornography.”

“Fuck.” Deeply sighing, Nic looked up. “Does Jensen tell you everything?”

“Only the really fun, let’s-embarrass-someone stuff!” Jensen answered himself, plopping down into Nic’s seat. “Let’s see this.”

“It is NOT pornography.” Looking like she was facing a firing squad, Nic dutifully unlocked her phone and pulled up the file. “I didn’t know you guys when I drew this, and it was an art match-up thing, I didn’t even get to choose what it was…”

Misha held his hand out, waiting. “This better not disappoint after all this build-up. I hope you drew my cock in correct proportion--”

Jensen grabbed the phone first, and couldn’t stop laughing. “Oh, God. I do remember these making an appearance a few years ago for a bit.”

“That’s not pornography!” Misha said, sounding disappointed, as he snatched the phone out of Jensen’s hand and studied the image. “You actually are a really good artist, Nic.” 

Nic studied the floor, biting her lip, until Jensen stopped laughing and Misha handed the phone back. She stayed quiet, while the two men talked back and forth about signing the artwork at a couple of conventions. She didn’t even talk to Jensen to start working, just gave him a tight smile while holding a concealer-coated wedge in her hand. The two men caught on to her mood fairly quickly, however, and Jensen got her attention by catching her hand. “You okay?”

Nic shrugged. She reached to continue smearing make-up over Jensen’s slight stubble, but he stopped her again. 

Jensen made her look him in the eye. “I’m not bothered by that art. Impressed, actually. You are very good.” Misha seconded Jensen’s comments. 

Nic swallowed. “But I thought—“ Nic swallowed again. “I’ve never heard your actual thoughts on this, Jensen. I just assumed, because of what I’ve read and watched on YouTube…but does Destiel actually bother you?”

That was a full-on body laugh and a few minutes recovery. Jensen had to dab at his eyes, he laughed so hard. “No, it does not bother me. It’s the network that smashed that down, and I went along with it for a while. They had me convinced it would be detrimental to the show for that to be talked about.”

“Not anymore, though?” Nic prodded, her excitement and anxiety a massive crashing wave in her mind.

“I think the Network is ignoring a big chunk of our fans by shutting that down,” Jensen sighed. “I have tried to convince them otherwise, but the PTB are firm.”

“Me, too,” Misha seconded. “But the fans get it. So I’m good with that. For now.”

Nic smiled. “This is a weird experience, going from fan to set worker.”

“I can imagine,” Misha added. “But now that we’ve seen your work…and you are pretty good, don’t act like you aren’t…would you like to help design some Random Acts t-shirts?”

Nic was floored. Her hands didn’t shake—she was still putting make-up on Jensen, and didn’t want to mess it up—but her whole body felt shivery. “Uh, sure.”

Misha smiled widely, but Jensen watched the exchange with trepidation, saying nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New/temporary support staff member on-set starts mid-season, and meets the cast. Over the second half of the season, she gets to know Misha and Jensen better and finds out some interesting truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers- Unfortunately, I don’t own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don’t sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Winchesters and Angels of the Lord getting some on the show! And Danneel would guest star…wait! I got my wish!

FIC TITLE: Down the Rabbit Hole  
Author- PTBvisiongrrl   
Date- 3/31/18  
Chapters: 5/?  
Rating – PG-13/T? Talks about polyamory, bisexuality and fandom, but not in explicit detail.   
Pairings/Characters- Misha/Jensen; Jensen/Daneel and Misha/Vicki; J/D/M/V mentioned  
Word Count- 3,438

Chapter Five  
A long day of fight filming the next day brought all three boys back to Nic’s make-up trailer tired, sore, and fake-injured galore, before leaving set. Fake blood washes off in the shower, but adhesive glue requires special removal creams if you didn’t want to tear your skin off and/or wanted to make sure there was no irritation beneath the fake injuries. Being the experienced professionals they all were, the boys waited patiently for Terri and Nic’s attentions rather than attempt self-removal.

Misha went first, as he was covered almost completely head to toe in a multitude of “wounds” that ‘Dean’ had inflicted on a possessed-Cas, as well as sticky layers of fake blood. Jensen sat in the other chair with Terri removing his swollen-shut eye and split lip while Nic dealt with Misha; Jared switched places with Jensen while Nic was still working on one last gash on Misha’s cheekbone that ran the entire side of his face. The layers required to make things look realistic were a pain for removal, although Nic had been proud of her work earlier before she thought about having to take it all off. Even Bob Singer had complemented her on the look. 

What she had failed to properly plan for, however, was Misha’s serious five o’clock shadow after 12+ hours on set. While the stubble had made it slightly easier to get beneath the fake skin and work removal cream in, the prosthetic also stubbornly stayed stuck to the no-longer-so-short hairs. Most of the fake skin slid off pretty easy, until it reached the hollow of his cheek and then ran down to his chin. That was where the problem began. Misha took it like a champ, the first ten or so tugs…but that’s about when his patience (and pain threshold) rain out. “Yellow, yellow!” Misha called out, grabbing Nic by the wrist before she could yank anymore. 

“You wuss,” echoed across the trailer from Jared, who was still waiting. “I can rip that right off! C’mere!”

“No!” Misha almost took off running from his seated position when Jared rose up from his chair, jokingly threatening. 

“Calm it down, boys,” Terri cut through with her non-nonsense, Mom voice. “No rough housing in the make-up trailer, you know the rules.” All participants quickly resumed their respective corners, well, chairs. Their quick compliance showed how much they respected the tight ship Terri run.

“I’m so sorry, Misha!” was all that Nic could say. “I’ve mostly worked on myself, or other women, with prosthetics and glue, and never left it on for this many hours. I didn’t even think about facial hair growth. Terri?” Nic asked, rising panic obvious in her voice. 

Terri came over to inspect Nic’s work, and shook her head. “The hairy monkey man just has to be patient. There’s nothing wrong with how you are removing it. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Nic felt the panic rising in her chest despite Terri’s reassurance, a true anxiety attack in its infancy but building fast. She had ruined Misha Collins’s handsome face. She was on a show that regularly used prosthetics, and she couldn’t do the job. She was going to get fired, she knew it. Misha was going to be so mad at her…and that was when Nic felt light-headed and couldn’t breathe, and stopped moving. 

Jensen, now that he could see properly again through both eyes at once, realized Nic was having an issue of some sort and came over to her. Taking her hand by the wrist, he made her pause in her work and turned her face to look directly at him with his other hand. “Okay, sweetheart, take a couple minutes. Nothing you can do is going to make Misha’s ugly mug any uglier, so don’t worry so much about it.”

Nic tried to breath, nodding, but staring into those green eyes didn’t really help the breathing part. Jensen had the most gorgeous green eyes, and was looking right at her….

She was saved from her plight by Jared, who sighed and shook his head. “You are not helping, Jackles.” Jared rose up and made his way over, shoving Jensen out of the way to wrap his orangutan-long arms around Nic in a warm hug. Nic couldn’t see it, but she could feel Jared motion Jensen away as Jared shifted to shield her from the rest of the room with his tall, wide-shouldered presence. Letting go, Jared had to scrunch down to be at her level. “Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

Nic nodded yes. 

Jared nodded back. “Okay, so you know what is going on. Do you take any medication for them?”

At Nic’s negative headshake, Jared nodded. Putting both hands on either side of her face, he continued to look hard at her. “Okay. Then first thing is to get you breathing normal again. Slow, deep breaths, okay? We don’t want you to hyperventilate. Breath with me.”

That took a little bit longer, but Nic found herself breathing like a person again and not an over-excited puppy dog. Jared continued to study her, waiting until she could breathe normally for several breaths without a shudder or stutter in it. “Why did you get so upset?” Jared asked, voice low, the background sounds of the make-up trailer and the other men’s voices in conversation suddenly deafening to Nic. 

“Ah, prosthetic fail?” Nic stated weakly, disbelief in her voice that Jared had to ask. Wasn’t her distress obvious? And then Nic almost cried, because it obviously wasn’t if Jared had to ask. If he had to ask, she must be acting like an irrational child. Please, she thought, please don’t let me embarrass myself even more…

And fuck, there was the water works. It was just tiny drips from the corner of Nic’s eyes, not a waterfall, but obvious to someone staring at her from less than a foot away. Jared smiled crookedly, one corner higher than the other, and then pulled her back into a hug so he could speak quietly to her without the rest of the room hearing.

“It’s okay. This type of thing happens all the time. Nature of the job.” Jared pulled back enough to wipe at the corner of Nic’s eyes. “One time it took three hours to get me out of a body suit. I forgot to shave, ah, everywhere.” Jared turned a little pink at that. “It didn’t hurt that bad. Misha will be fine.”

Nic licked her lips, nodded, and set her shoulders. “Okay. Thank you, Jared.”

“I understand,” Jared winked and nodded to the AKF hoodie he had left flung across the chair before raising his voice so that everyone could hear the next comment. “And you gotta understand, Misha is just a wuss. He can’t take pain.”

Misha had been silent during the last exchange, sitting patiently when he realized that something other than make-up removal issues were going on. “It’s not that I can’t take it, Moose. I just prefer to be the one doling it out.” 

Nic shot Misha a tiny, quivering smile as her hands went back to applying cream, and small tugs at the prosthetic. She continued to apologize, even as Misha himself told her it was okay. Nic felt like she was being handled a little, but Misha managed to make it through without any major damage or vocalization of pain, although it had taken close to another hour. Nic had managed, being methodical and using copious amount of removal cream, to carefully remove the prosthetic millimeter by millimeter. Jared and Jensen had taken turns going back to their trailers to shower and change, making sure one of them stayed in the make-up trailer while the other was gone, before coming back to hang around to see that both she and Misha were okay. “Finally!” Nic exclaimed, and Misha slumped down a little in her chair, exhaling deeply. 

“Time for a drink!” Jared declared. 

Misha shook his head. “Some of us still need to shower and drive ourselves home, Moose.”

“You can crash at my place, Mish.” Jensen extended the invitation for a drink to Nic, as well, even without Jared prodding him as Jared had planned to do. “How about you, Nic? Do you drink whiskey?”

“No, not usually, but thanks for the offer,” Nic answered, desperate to get out of here and go home, to disappear in a spiral of shame and embarrassment away from everyone. 

Nic’s panic attack had not gone unnoticed by Terri; Terri simply hadn’t intervened as directly as the boys already had. Terri knew the boys meant well, and hoped that Nic could see that. “Hey, Nic, you’ve had a night. Go ahead with the boys, and I’ll clean up for you, okay?”

Panic seemed to well back up in Nic’s face, and Terri indicated with a nod of her head to Jensen to give her a minute with Nic. Jensen nodded, and turned to Nic. “We’ll wait outside for you.”

“Uh-,” Nic tried to talk, but Jensen just smiled and headed outside with Jared.

Terri smiled and wrapped an arm around Nic. “It’s okay. Go. It’s not crossing any lines to have a drink with them. And I can see you really can use that drink after tonight.” Terri handed Nic her coat. “I’ll clean-up for you.”

cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles

Gentlemen that they are, Jared and Jensen were waiting for her outside in their parkas. It wasn’t far to Jensen’s trailer, but the men flanked her like bodyguards. Given their impressive heights and physiques, they created a pretty good windbreak for her smaller frame. Jensen already had his keys out before setting a foot on the metal steps, and they were all inside and considerably warmer within moments.

Jared had dumped his coat on a hook by the door and his boots, damp from the ever-present snow, thunked onto a boot mat below the hook. Nic took her time removing shoes and coat, shoving scarf and hat into the sleeves and mittens into the pockets, trying to keep herself calm. Jensen was waiting, polite and patient, for her to finish; he immediately took the items and hung them next to the other items on the hooks and mat by the door. Nic almost giggled, seeing her tiny boots lined up between Jared’s huge ones and Jensen’s only slightly smaller, but suddenly a glass was pressed into her hands and distracted her.

Jensen and Jared piled onto the couch, grabbing game controllers and putting their own drinks on the coffee table. Motioning for Nic to take the very comfortable looking recliner off to the side of the couch, Jensen raised an eyebrow. “First person shooter, Jedi fights, or Bowling?”

“Bowling? Really?” Nic put her glass on the end table to her left, and raised an eyebrow. “I’d rather kill things, thanks. Zombies, preferably.”

Jared smiled and raised his hand for a high five. When Nic failed to slap his hand, he dropped the controller for a moment and, holding her hand by the wrist, forced her to complete the five. “Zombie killing it is.”

About four dozen kills later between the three of them, Misha had found his way, showered and out of Cas’s clothes, to Jensen’s trailer as well, accepting a tumbler of whiskey and perching himself on the arm of the sofa to watch things die. “You would think with all the guns these two get to play with, they’d have better aim,” Misha commented on the game, but did not play himself.

After a couple dirty looks and a hard Jared shove that forced Misha into a standing position (if he didn’t want to land on his ass), Misha held up his glass at a good pausing point, smiling at Nic despite the obvious raw redness on his cheek and chin, to propose a toast. “To a successful face removal!”

Jensen shook his head, Nic felt her face color, and Jared punched Misha’s shoulder hard enough to shake the tumbler and its liquid. 

Raising his own glass, Jared tipped it to Nic. “Welcome to the SPN family, Nic. First on-set crisis successfully averted.”

Nic took a small sip of her own drink—whiskey, and as fine a sample as she was sure it was, it still made her cough a little. “Thanks!”

Nic quickly discovered that those boys could hold their liquor—well, the Js. Misha was much less stable and a bit tipsier than the other men, but he was also at least two full drinks ahead with not playing the video games, which forced Jared and Jensen to put their drinks down to use the controllers. Nic managed to hold her own with first-person shooter games, impressing the boys. 

All in all, she’s feeling much more relaxed after almost an hour later of carefully nursed sips of from the throat-searing liquor and shooting things dead. Jared had the earliest call tomorrow, and used his final “death” as an excuse to head out, calling Clif to take him home. Nic called goodbye, hands busy shooting, but accepted a from-behind hug. Misha chimed in that he would drive Jensen home, because he had his car on-set, so that Clif wouldn’t have to come back after dropping off Jared.

After finishing her last turn and putting the not-yet-quite-empty tumbler down on the coffee table after one last sip, Nic smiled at the two remaining men. “Thanks for not being mad, Misha, and thanks for the drink, both of you.”

“No, no, no,” Misha sat up and picked up her glass. “You can’t leave. You didn’t FINISH your drink yet.”

Jensen had already tossed his controller aside and started to rise to help her get her coat, but he flopped quickly back down at Misha’s words and picked it back up. “Bottoms up first, Nic. House rules. No abandoning alcohol.”

“Since I’m nearly a hundred pounds lighter and a foot shorter than you, drinking rules might need to be amended for my continued health and safety,” Nic laughed, heading for her coat.

“You aren’t smaller than Danneel or Gen, and they follow the same rules,” Jensen tapped the edge of her glass. “Even Ruthie does, and she is truly tiny.”

Sighing, Nic tried one last time to follow Terri’s advice. “I need to drive home. So, good n—“

Misha was up, her glass in his hand, and beside her before she made it to the door. “Jensen’s going to have to drive my drunk ass home, so he can cart yours, too.”

“I still have to get back to work tomorrow, so I can’t leave my car in the lot,” Nic was proud that she thought of that. 

“Just take a cab in,” Misha smiled at her, one eyebrow raised. “I’ll cover it.”

There were so many good reasons to say no thanks and continue with her original plan. Except that Misha Collins was blatantly asking her to stick around to drink with them. How could a fan-girl turn that down? Living the dream, she muttered to herself and she turned around, taking her glass back again. “Well, I guess if I have a chauffeur and its house rules…bottoms up!” she said, then downed the rest of the glass and tried to hold her gasp back. 

“That’s the spirit!” Jensen laughed, going back to get the bottle to refill her glass (though pointedly pouring much, much less than he did for her first one as well as adding a couple of ice cubes) as she settled back onto the chair again and coughed at the burn. 

Sipping slowly, but steadily—there would be a slight hangover tomorrow, no doubt—Nic found herself thinking too much again and with no filter on her mouth. “So why do you two stars want to hang out with the spastic temp make-up girl?”

Jensen shrugged as Misha worked to sit back up and pour himself yet another drink. Rubbing the fading red patch left by Nic’s prosthetic removal, Misha shrugged. “I like getting to know new people, and you owe it to me to amuse me until my face feels better.”

Feeling anxiety as a low-level hum in the back of her head, Nic sipped again and tried to stay playful to keep the anxiety pushed down. “Hey, you survived. You never called red.” 

“It usually takes some fetish tools to get me to red,” Misha said, playfully dismissing her comment. “But now that you’ve brought safe words back up, we never did finish going over that list…”

Shooting Misha a look, Jensen claimed sensitive Texas ears to try and head Missa’s questions off. “Hey, hey, hey. Gentleman here.”

“You’ve hung out with Misha too much to legitimately claim the delicate gentleman card,” Nic had to laugh at him. 

“True,” Misha agreed, smirking at Jensen, but then grew indignant the more he thought about her comments. “Nic, are you saying I’m a bad influence?”

“You live to be a bad influence, Misha. Death to normalcy? Y’know, sneaking into China without a visa, climbing fences labeled “No Trespassing” while out running…playing in piles of dangerous sulfur…does any of this ring a bell or help you argue against me?” Nic challenged, feeling her alcohol.

“I got out of the sulfur when they told me just how dangerous it was,” Misha looked haughtily at her with what, frankly, was a studying look. He was going to test her, Nic could tell. “Well, then BDSM is obviously not for me. Strict rules there, and if you don’t follow them…” Misha trailed off, waiting for Nic to pick it up.

Nic had hit the truthful stage of drunk with just a little bit of the second only-partially-full whiskey tumbler. She could hardly stop herself, even knowing she would probably regret this when sober again. “So, you can follow rules with proper motivation, then?” As Nic said it, she looked up at Misha from beneath her eyelashes, bit her lower lip, and watched him squirm with a sense of satisfaction. This was…fun, Nic decided. 

Her alcohol intake had cancelled out her shyness, at least for a few moments, and she was going to work it as much as she could. “Oh, dear, have I made you uncomfortable?” Nic asked in a pretend-sorry tone.

Both men laughed, although it is not their usual self-assured laughs. Nic had to laugh, too. But then she found she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. 

When Nic couldn’t keep herself together for more than a minute or two—once composed, more giggles broke through no matter how hard she tried—Misha demanded to know what was so funny. 

Misha strolled over to Nic’s end of the sofa, crossing in front of Jensen without pause despite Jensen’s complaints at blocking the screen and sat down on her arm of the sofa. He placed his hand on her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. “What was so funny?”

Damn blue eyes, Nic mentally griped, and that voice demanding an answer. Fan girls jokingly called it his Dom voice. It didn’t feel like a joke to Nic, right this second, though. Nor did Terri’s voice in the back of her head telling her to run away NOW. “Sorry,” she smiled and held up her now empty glass with a shrug. She was at the point where the trio of fun, worry and a misstep usually met up, so it was definitely time to get her ass out of here. Declaring, “I’ve had too much to drink, I think,” Nic leaned from the sofa to put her glass down…

…and managed to knock Misha Collins off the sofa arm and onto his ass on the carpeted floor of Jensen Ackles’s trailer.

“Oh, fuck,” is all Nic can get out. Not that it mattered, because Misha and Jensen’s laughter drown out her own words. Once everyone had settled down, Jensen collected glasses and nodded at the clock. “That was definitely a cue for time to go.”

Misha agreed, still chuckling to himself every few minutes, as he carefully stood up to make his way to the door. “Okay.”

Nic struggled to pull her winter outerwear back on while Jensen readied to leave in an obvious routine- lights out, shades drawn, food put away, coffee set for tomorrow morning, and, finally, door locked after shooing both Misha and Nic out of the trailer and down the metal steps. Again flanked by two tall actors on the walk to Misha’s car, Nic enjoyed the bracing cold wind across her cheeks and nose. The utter cold woke her up enough that she could fairly easily manage to keep up with the men’s longer legs.


	6. Chapter 6

FIC TITLE: Down the Rabbit Hole  
Author- PTBvisiongrrl   
Date- 4/7/18  
Chapters: 6/?  
Rating – PG-13/T? Talks about polyamory, bisexuality and fandom, but not in explicit detail.   
Pairings/Characters- Misha/Jensen; Jensen/Daneel and Misha/Vicki; J/D/M/V mentioned  
Word Count- 3,159  
Warnings- Spoilers-   
Disclaimers- Unfortunately, I don’t own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don’t sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Winchesters and Angels of the Lord getting some on the show! And Danneel would guest star…wait! I got my wish!  
Summary-   
New/temporary support staff member on-set starts mid-season, and meets the cast. Over the second half of the season, she gets to know Misha and Jensen better and finds out some interesting truths.

Chapter 6

Once at the car, Jensen pushed Misha towards the back seat, and then held the passenger side door open for Nic to slide in. After he buckled, Jensen turned to Nic and raised an eyebrow. “Where to?”

Nic had a confused moment. She hadn’t really explored Vancouver much yet, and she was shit at giving directions on a good day. Right now was definitely not a good mental day. “Um, I know my address. And I know exactly one way to get there.”

Smiling, Jensen pulled out of Misha’s parking spot, studying the mirrors. “Well, I’ve worked here for almost 20 years now. I think I can find my way if you can’t remember.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Nic stated, “432 Wister Lane, in Davietown—a couple blocks south of Malcolm Boulevard.”

Jensen thought a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I know how to get there.” He began to drive, while Misha started talking from the back seat, leaning forward to spill through the gap in the middle of the seats. Immediately, Misha went back asking about Nic’s kinks list, even pulling out the imaginary pen again. He was like a dog with a bone; Jensen just concentrated on driving.   
It wasn’t a long ride to Nic’s, but long enough for Misha’s insistent interrogation to reluctantly reveal that Nic loved tats, preferred receiving pain to inflicting it, and was BAF- bi as fuck, in Nic’s own words.

But what made Misha really eager/interested, though, was the not-thought-out, stupidly drunken admission, as the car drove passed a local strip club, that Nic had worked as a stripper her junior year of college.

“A stripper?” Misha confirmed, as Jensen showed Zen-like concentration on driving and ignored the conversation. “How good were you on the pole?”

Nic laughed. She didn’t tell many people what she did in college, and none whom she had shared it with had approached the news with quite the level of the enthusiasm of tipsy Misha Collins. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Nic shot back.

Misha gave her a studied look, shrugging, “Yes, I would.”

Alcohol, in this minute, was Nic’s best friend. She did not spasm or gawp or otherwise embarrass herself thanks to it. Having nearly reached her place and escape, she simply shrugged back. “Too bad I’m otherwise gainfully employed these days, then.”

Jensen even insisted on walking her to her front door, ever the gentleman.

cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles

The next morning was painful for Nic, but last night didn’t seem to have any affect on the boys at all. All were chipper and happy in the chair, even Misha, while she was cranky and dragging with fatigue and a killer headache. Terri had taken note of Nic’s hangover, first thing, and t’sked. “I told you one drink, sweetie. Just one. And I meant a human sized one, not Padalecki-sized.”

Nic sighed and shrugged. “It was one and barely a half, but human sized. I can’t believe I feel this bad.”

“Didn’t you, like, just graduate from college? No college student should be that much of a light weight!” Jensen joked as he entered the trailer and sat in Terri’s chair.

Misha followed, smiling wide and he plopped down in Nic’s chair. “Seriously, Two-Can Sally. You make me fear for the future of the US alcohol industry if today’s college students are unable to drink more than that.”

Jensen started giving Misha shit, insisting that Misha was just as bad. “She knocked you to the floor, dude. You were only on, like, your fourth?”

Jared joined in, too, a few minutes later when he arrived in the make-up trailer, on time for the first time since Nic has been working here. Nic felt like the men were checking up on her, and warmth spread in her chest that they thought enough of her to do so. 

cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles

Nic had forgotten about the end-of-night car discussion regarding her college jobs, until Misha reminded her two days later. “So…that club we passed on the way home.”

Internally panicking but externally simply blushing, Nic tried to play off her regrettable, alcohol-loosened admission. “Club?” she asked, layering confusion into her tone.

Misha briefly squinted, studying Nic as if he was trying to decide to go through with whatever his plan for the conversation, before deciding to embrace it. “The strip club,” he elaborated, waiting for a spark of understanding in Nic’s eyes.

“The what club?” Nic tried again to act innocent.

Misha frowned, obviously changing tactics. “Straight up, no power plays. Honest. There is an amateur night every Wednesday. Would you be interested in dancing for me, and what would it take to convince you? And if it’s a no, it’s no. No tearing off of any wings. I won’t ask again. I will accept your answer.”

“Why are you really so interested in seeing me semi-naked?” Nic asked in honest bafflement. Nic knew she was attractive, in a catch-some-guys/girls way, but no one was over awed at her. The bar did not experience some group moment of silence when she crossed the threshold. No one was snapping indecent pictures of her in dressing rooms with secret cameras. And Misha Collins was 1) married to a very attractive, intelligent woman whom he could go home to most nights and 2) had thousands of other beautiful women of all age groups perfectly willing to throw themselves at or kneel down before him on a regular basis. “What makes me so special?”

Misha throws back his head in a deep, guffawing amusement. “That attitude, for one.”

“Why me? There’s Stacey in Costumes- way hotter, and would love to strip down for you, trust me.” Nic pressed a but, still trying to get her mental ducks in a row.

“Because she wants to entirely too much. And she still, after 8 years, won’t meet my eyes when she talks to me.” Misha answered honestly, never dropping his eyes from Nic.

“This is because I haven’t admitted you’re my alpha, huh?” Nic met his eyes, one eyebrow drawn. “My mistake.”

Taking a quick breath and raising one eyebrow him self, Misha asked, “Are you submitting?”

Nic had to close her eyes for a minute before responding. “You want to see me naked.”

“I would most definitely not be opposed.” Misha grinned in agreement.

Nic felt hot, then cold—like a sudden fever. She still wasn’t sure enough of herself to assume that Misha really wanted it. There had to be some other reason than just…her. “What are you getting out of this? What hunger is this feeding?”

Misha shook his head slightly. “And this is so why I am intrigued by you. I like to peel back layers and get to know the intricate workings of people. Can’t help it. You have some interesting layers. While I get to meet lots of interesting people in my life, there aren’t many that attract me below the surface. So when I find one…I am fascinated and want to know more.”

“See more, you mean?” Nic nudged back. “I get it. You’re a people collector. But why would you want to ‘collect’ little old uninteresting me?”

“Its more like a spider luring people into the web to hang out, but I don’t eat them. Well,” he looked hard at Nic with a not-at-all subtle lick of his lower lip. “Stays in my web are not fatal.”

Nic shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. “So you just count on fate to drop your pray in?”

“Not all accidental web-visitors are of equal interest.” Misha seemed to consider a minute. 

Nic studied him, her heart racing and her wind spiraling into slight fan mania. “I might be willing to consider going back to dancing for a night. But it hardly seems fair if you see me almost naked and I don’t get to see you except in a huge trench coat.” Leaning back and smiling widely, amused at herself at turning Misha’s playfulness around on him, Nic firmly restated, “No skin from you, no skin from me.” 

“Name your terms,” Misha answered rather quickly.

Nic needed time to truly consider this offer. She wasn’t willing to just jump in, fan dream or not. “Let me figure out some details.”

Misha smiled even wider, nodded his agreement, and headed out to filming. “Let me know,” he threw gravelly over his shoulder as he left.

cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles

Castiel’s season arc was mid-season heavy, and soon Misha was not on set every day. His working days were few and scenes fewer still. He still did the almost bi-weekly conventions, so Nic heard how he was from both Jared and Jensen, but didn’t see him with her own eyes for a week or more at a time now, and then only for a day or so. 

Nic got more comfortable around Jensen without Misha there throwing out weird vibes. Jensen was so unfailingly polite, yet a smart ass at the same time, and just a nice guy. Without Misha around to push conversation into the fringes of acceptability, Nic found out a lot more about Jensen and traded her own information freely. In moments alone, infrequent as they were, Jensen seemed to find a more balanced comfort level around Nic. She asked how his kids were, and he shared pictures of them playing with the dogs; he asked her about the artwork he caught her working on when he was early one morning, and she let him see it despite her face blazing red the entire time; they talked about the upcoming baseball season and lamented the losses of the previous football season. 

Jensen was a regular, down-to-earth, extraordinarily handsome man. Nic found that she could ignore his ridiculously good looks more easily as she got to know him better, and his personality just confirmed his pretty packaging. Her comfort level on set grew. This job had been a great opportunity, both professionally and personally, and she was happy. 

Then Danneel came to set for a long weekend to celebrate Jensen’s birthday, sans kids, and Nic felt off-footed once again. 

Nic was more nervous around Danneel than she had been around even Jensen in those first weeks on set. She turned into an absolute fan girl, flushing bright red and forgetting how to speak when Jensen warmly introduced Danneel to her before plopping his pretty ass into her make-up chair while Danneel took a chair to wait, much to Jensen’s amusement. Nic’s stuttered answers to the few getting to know you questions Danneel directed her way simply seemed to increase Jensen’s level of mirth.

Jensen’s smirking only grew bigger when Nic had trouble locating frequently used items in her case, and managed to loudly drop several items while using them. Nic shot Jensen a dirty look when she saw the smirk widen, and might have been a touch rougher positioning him by his chiseled chin in revenge. Nic felt utter relief when she finally managed to finish Jensen’s make-up, which took longer than usual with Nic’s sudden clumsiness and frequent side-eyed looks to study Danneel during Jensen and Danneel’s running conversation. 

Danneel’s reaction to Nic’s flustered self was a warm half-smirk reminiscent of her husband’s as she watched Nic work on her husband. When she and Jensen got ready to take their leave to head to set, Danneel directly addressed Nic. “It really was a pleasure to finally you meet you. Jensen has told me what a talented artist you are, and Misha is always sharing which antic of yours has kept him on his toes this time. I’m so glad there is someone sassy enough here to keep them in their place and their egos deflated.”

Nic only stuttered harder. She could barely eek out a sound, much less a full word or assemble an actual sentence. “H-h-h-happy to be of service, Mrs. Ackles.”

“Is Jensen’s mom here?” Danneel chuckled warmly while playfully glancing around. “Just Danneel, honey. I am not that formal.” 

Nic bit her lip, and shyly averted her eyes to the left. “Okay, Danneel,” Nic agreed in a barely-above-a-whisper tone.

Danneel tilted her head to the side and smiled wider, reaching out to pull Nic’s chin up to meet Danneel’s eyes. “And neither of them did your beauty justice with their descriptions, gorgeous girl.”

Nic felt her heart triple its rate, and a little light-headed to boot. Red spread out across Nic’s complexion, up to the tips of her ears. Jensen just smiled, shook his head in amusement, and pulled Danneel away by the arm. “Let’s go see Jared, Dee,” Jensen chuckled at Nic’s reaction as he led Danneel off, obviously enjoying how Nic continued to turn even redder and more nervous. 

Nic tried to gather herself before her next appointment, but was not very successful. Once she thought she’d gotten her heart rate back to normal, she thought about how low-cut Danneel’s shirt had been, and the throaty chuckle that made Danneel’s whole frame tremble slightly. But it was Danneel‘s voice that got to Nic even more than the men’s deeper tones. And the smile that reached her eyes…and those lips twisted up in mirth…and those warm fingers pressed against Nic’s chin. 

So soft and gentle, with not-too-long nails pressing against Nic’s skin that she could still feel while watching the Ackles’ stride off together, hand-in-hand. 

Oh, mother of God. Nervous at times on set, seriously trying to hold it together when meeting handsome and beautiful actors she knew from watching the show, shit…none of that compared to her reaction to meeting Danneel Harris Ackles in person. 

cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles

Misha was back on set the week after Danneel’s visit, and immediately reminded Nic of her amateur night promise—which just so happened to be that night. “We have something else to take care of before Amateur Night, Misha,” Nic reminded him. “And I will need at least a week to get a stage costume together. I don’t exactly have those things laying around.”

“You didn’t keep even one?” Misha asked hopefully, his eyes hooded and a darker blue than usual.

“I will need a week. But first thing’s first,” Nic demanded.

“Lunch was just called, extra long for a set redressing. None of us have to be back to set for two whole hours. We can settle this now and schedule an actual night to see you dance.” Misha suggested. “If you figured out your terms.”

Nic shrugged, intrigued. “Skin from you before skin from me. Hadn’t worked out my details yet.” She had begun to feel like her life was a fanfiction at this point, what with the turn flirting had now taken, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to finish the fic or not. “What would be your idea?”

“Strip poker,” Misha stated, voice firm and deep. 

“So you get to see me naked TWO times? Uh-uh. Not fair. No.” Nic surprised herself with the firmness in her voice. While she might really enjoy seeing Misha Collins lose his wardrobe to her, she would still have to lose some of her own, because no one wins all the time, not even her. “Just ‘cause you’re a hot TV star does not mean I’m giving this,” Nic motioned dramatically to her own body, from shoulders down, “away for nothing.”

Misha tightened his eyes up in consideration. “You called me hot.”

“Yes,” Nic stated in a tense, I know you heard me tenor. “I did.”

“And I’m willing to show off for you if I lose!” Misha pushed his lower lip out in an adorable pout. 

“I’ve never played poker with you, so I’m not sure how good you actually are…but it will most likely be when, not if.” Nic shrugged, smiling. 

Jensen strode up right at that moment, having been searching set for Misha to go to lunch, over hearing the last bit of conversation. “He sucks at poker, Nic. It would be easy money for you,” Jensen laughed at a memory of a past poker game. 

Misha looked indignant for a hot minute, until he realized that Jensen’s arrival could be beneficial after all. “Its not for money, Jackles,” Misha stated.

Rolling his eyes, Jensen shot out a rough, scratchy chuckle that sounded like it pained him. “Oh, then I don’t blame Nic for not wanting to play with you, you perv,” Jensen stated with an eye smirk and a hard smack with the back of his hand to Misha’s bicep. “Stop sexually harassing the set workers, dude. Goes against your enlightened, metrosexual image.”

Looking hotly at Jensen, eyes even tinier, Misha smiled like a snake about to strike. “Well, I guess you better come play, too, then to make it clear that I am not a sexually harassing pervert. Good ol’ Texas boy like you would never stoop to such behavior.”

Jensen mimicked Dean’s pissed but puzzled face, one he often used with Angel-of-the-lord Castiel’s nonhuman behavior. His demeanor became more hostile the longer he started at Misha. “Really, dude?”

“We won’t play to skin, just skivvies. Keep it wholesome.” Misha smirked at Jensen. “Please?”

A harsh, forceful press of a sigh escaped Jensen before he could stop it. “Do you really think that’s a good idea, Misha? Two married, with kids, over-40 male leads, with a 23 year old set worker playing strip poker in your trailer?”

Nic got offended. “Do you think I’m selling this story somewhere? Or that I think either of you could make me do anything against my will?”

Jensen’s eyes flicked over to meet Nic’s. “It just doesn’t sound…appropriate…in the details.”

“Such a gentleman, always, Jens,” Misha practically cooed. 

Nic eyeballed Misha, from his shoes to his weathered trench coat to the top of his head, and then back down again. “You and I can play for cash, Jensen, and Misha can get naked instead.”

“Seriously?” Misha asked. “You think I’m going to lose that much?” Pbfffft, he intoned incredulously. 

Jensen smiled widely. “I know you will, dude. And I wouldn’t want to miss that humiliation for the world.” 

What? Nic almost said out loud, but managed to refrain at the last minute. Suddenly a return to stripping for a night wasn’t any kind of burden for her to bare. It was almost a trade-in-kind, given her poker skills, and that was much, much more interesting. 

And Jensen would be there, too. 

Misha gave his eyebrows a caricature evil arch as Jensen began to shuffle. “See how many clothes you can get off of me. But you have to dance at amateur night if we give this a whirl, no matter who wins at poker or how well/badly they do so.”

“Get you naked and take Jensen’s money, too? A two-for-one? Hells, yes.” Nic answered quickly, before either man could take it back, or she could come to her logical senses. “Deal.” And she sealed it with a smile. “Where?”

Jensen offered, “My trailer?” 

Nic nodded and smiled, heading off in the direction of the trailers. “Let’s go, boys.”


	7. Chapter 7

FIC TITLE: Down the Rabbit Hole  
Author- PTBvisiongrrl   
Date- 4/9/18  
Chapters: 7/?  
Rating – PG-13/T? Talks about polyamory, bisexuality and fandom, but not in explicit detail.   
Pairings/Characters- Misha/Jensen; Jensen/Daneel and Misha/Vicki; J/D/M/V mentioned  
Word Count- 2,439  
Warnings- Spoilers-   
Disclaimers- Unfortunately, I don’t own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don’t sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Winchesters and Angels of the Lord getting some on the show! And Danneel would guest star…wait! I got my wish!  
Summary-   
New/temporary support staff member on-set starts mid-season, and meets the cast. Over the second half of the season, she gets to know Misha and Jensen better and finds out some interesting truths.

Chapter 7

The men followed her rather docilely, and she could feel the silent conversation behind her back taking place as they walked. She was still not at all sure why Misha was pushing this stripping thing, something that could have been so easily ignored and ascribed to drunkenness, but the chance to get Misha Collins to willingly show some skin, up-close-and-personal? While hopefully impressing Jensen with her poker skills as she divested him of his cash? Fan-girl was NOT giving that shot up. 

And it didn’t take long to expose some truly spectacular torsos, much to both men’s surprise. 

Misha had lost all of his upper body covering (trench and suit jacket included), belt, tie, both shoes, and one sock in the time Jensen ran out of cash. He never carried much cash on him, usually just using credit cards, and Nic was GOOD. “That now includes all the money I found under the couch cushions,” Jensen chuckled. “I’m out.”

Nic was annoyed she hadn’t managed to get more clothing off of Misha before the game was ending. “I didn’t even you down to your skivvies.”

Misha was not happy to end it like this, either. “Jackles, go borrow some cash from Jared. I can’t believe you lost it all already.”

Nic thought it would be weird to continue playing, just the two of them, in front of Jensen…but even weirder if Jensen left and came back. As much as Nic enjoyed flirting with Misha, this was starting to feel less like playful fun and something with more serious intent—something Nic wasn’t sure she herself would be ready for. So she did NOT want Jensen to leave. She was afraid of what he might stumble back into and interrupt.

Until Jensen, after some sharp prodding from Misha, agreed to strip poker for a hand or two more. Not more than that, because he was not willing to actually get to naked, and given Nic’s poker skills so far, that would be where the game ultimately would end. “You’re a shark, Nic. I am totally ready to give up and admit it, even if Misha’s not.”

Smiling and humming over her cards, Nic finally got Misha down to his orange boxer briefs, with one still stubborn sock, when Jensen managed to lose both his upper layers of flannel and t-shirt. Misha wasn’t smiling, but he certainly wasn’t showing the storm cloud on Jensen’s face. Nic wasn’t sure if it was Jensen losing at cards, losing clothes, or being beaten by a girl (which she certainly hoped was not the case, given he had two daughters), but Jensen was very unhappy.

Nic was almost ready to call it, just to get Jensen to lighten up, when she realized what getting them both out of shirts showed—more hickies, hidden per Nic’s request she noted. Nic tried to hold it in, she really did, but quickly came to the point that she couldn’t help but ask, even if she was immediately scolded. She expected Misha’s marks—or at least, wasn’t surprised by them. He went home to his wife regularly during filming, and even if he didn’t, Nic knew what polyamory was—as long Vicki didn’t care, Nic couldn’t care. But Jensen… Given the newness of the marks Nic saw, they could not possible have been left by Danneel, unless she had been secretly transported to Jensen’s bed last night and whisked home this morning. So either Jensen was a cheater, which Nic had feared since that first hickey discovery, or he and Danneel had a very quiet arrangement, too.

Nic hoped rather stridently that Jensen and Danneel had an agreement, too. She had been distracted enough with Misha’s flirting that she had been able to ignore her let-down feelings about Jensen, or her image of him as a rather traditional husband and father. After getting to know Jensen better as well, she simply assumed that she had somehow been wrong, because Jensen would do that. But if the Ackles did have one of those arrangements…the who could be very interesting indeed. 

Studying Jensen’s shoulder, where a very clear, very large set of teeth left an imprint, Nic arched her eyebrow as she shuffled and dealt the cards again, managing to get out, “Thanks for keeping those hickies under the clothing this time, Jensen.”

Jensen startled and his eyes went wide before he looked hard at Misha, who shrugged back at him. Jensen had obviously forgotten the marks were there.

To Nic, the bite looked to have been from behind. That realization sent a spark of electricity through Nic’s chest. Fuck. Fuckity, fuck-fuck, she thought. While the idea had been mildly interesting before meeting the men, Nic was not a tin-hat Cockles fan. She had never really believed the Cockles shippers before; it was a nice fantasy narrative to enjoy, but it seemed just too preposterous in reality. Nothing she had seen or heard while on set so far had supported the ship. But… 

Closing her eyes for a moment in order to breathe, Nic couldn’t help but to try and confirm her suddenly growing suspicions. “I didn’t realize Danneel was visiting,” Nic pushed a little harder. The glance between the men made her even more certain of the actual identity.

“Bet’s to you, sweetheart,” Jensen answered, pulling out the Dean charm to deflect. 

Nic shrugged and tossed a couple chips into the pot. “Call.” Her heart almost beat out of her chest in the silent moments that followed, the only sound the cards being dealt, picked up, and arranged. She had a chance to settle some persistent rumors here. Feeling suddenly brave, and entirely curious, Nic said, “Those marks actually look too big to be from Danneel—and not big enough to confirm Wincest.”

Another heated look was exchanged between the men, but neither man spoke further other than to bet, call, and declare a winner after showing hands. Jensen picked the cards up and began shuffling and dealing for the next hand. 

Nic felt like she had over-stepped, but given this golden opportunity to press in person for an answer made her overly brave. ”C’mon. I’ve signed all the NDAs. I actually like Supernatural and you guys, so I’m not telling anybody anything.” When no one offered comment, she studied her cards and continued playing, not looking directly at either man. “I’m going to think about it even if you don’t confirm, anyway.” 

Jensen suddenly had an inability to breath normally. “You’ve no doubt read Vicki’s book,” was the most Jensen could get out, his voice scratchy and tense.

“Yes, I have. I went to college, lived on campus, and I’m bi,” Nic added to try and ease Jensen’s obvious discomfort. “You think threesomes are an abstract concept to me? Its like, the perfect fit for fun.”

“Ohohohoh,” Misha chuckled in a devilish tone, “Do tell.”

“I’m already going to strip in public for you. I’m not giving away my stories for free, too,” Nic quickly adapted to Misha’s obvious attempt to change the subject. As much as she was really curious, she also didn’t want to make Jensen more uncomfortable. 

“So there are stories?” Misha made an interested face and turned his body to face her more directly. Jensen shook his head, knowing Misha was on a mission now, and nothing he could say or do was going to stop this train. They were at an impasse—Misha and he had confirmed without confirming, simply by not denying quickly enough before redirection. It was something that never really bothered Misha to begin with, but in the process Misha now had a distractive bone to gnaw on, which he was not going to let go. Jensen took the opportunity to duck behind the provided distraction.

Nic raised her eyebrow, incredulous. “I’ll trade you one of my bisexual, co-ed, menage-a-trois sex stories for one honestly answered question from one of you guys. I mean, you’re, well, you, been in Hollywood for almost 20 years…you have dated and worked with some really hot women.”

Although Misha was obviously searching through his memory banks, Jensen started to turn red, embarrassed at such blatant attention to his looks. His reaction had both puzzled and charmed Nic. Happened every time, and was why Nic would usually back off. Not this time, though—stakes were higher than normal, and Nic had a competitive streak a mile wide. “And, no offense, Jensen, you are HOT, but your wife is insanely HOTTER.”

Jensen continued to turn redder, but found his voice after clearing his throat. “That’s at least the third time you’ve mentioned Danneel is hot.”

Misha smirked, saving Jensen. “Well, you know most of my dirty secrets already if you read Vic’s book.”

Nic shook her head. “There is one detail that was left out and I’ve always wondered…”

Misha shrugged. “Ask away.” He sat back, displaying that firmly muscled chest and thick biceps, crossing his feet at the ankles on the coffee table (still-socked foot under) and adjusting his junk to sit comfortably. “Just remember those NDAs.”

“I would hope I’m a good enough person to not need an NDA to know what should be kept to myself. Its not like tricky sexualities and kink aren’t in my wheelhouse,” Nic scoffed, but she understood. Her parents did not know she was bi, and it wasn’t that she thought they would be upset. It was just something that she was still figuring out for herself and not ready to share quite yet. 

Jensen looked extremely tense and looked anywhere but directly at Nic. “Sometimes it’s hard to know who can be trusted,” he stated lowly. 

“Well, let me know when I’ve got that trust, then,” Nic stated without humor and meeting Jensen’s darting eyes for long enough to send the message before joking again. With a smiling leer, she purred, “Because I would really like to hear about Danneel.”

Misha raised his hand. “I trust you enough. And I’m a horny pervert, so I want to hear one of your stories.”

“Okay, Dmitri.” Nic crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. “I get one question, honestly answered, and then you get a story. Any of your threesomes with Vicki include a guy?”

Misha scoffed. “Such a vanilla question. I know what you really want to know, but you’ll need to ask the right way to get your full answer within only one question.” 

Nic licked her lips, and decided to just go for it. Lunch would be over soon, anyway. “Okay. Let me rephrase the original question, then. Did any of your threesomes include a guy that wasn’t there for Vicki?”

Misha smiled, wide, and winked at Nic. “There you go. That was the way to ask it. Yes, more than once.”

Nic actually had to think for a minute about where this conversation should be going now, because her mind went into an involuntary, hard restart. Misha Collins had confirmed he was bisexual. She absolutely never expected to be able to definitively know that. Holy fuck. This was a revelation, as well as absolutely hot as hell. “Why haven’t you ever let the fans know you were bisexual?”

Misha shrugged. “The people who need to know that fact already know, and I’m not confining that list to the guys I’ve fucked or been fucked by. No one else really needs to know, do they?” 

Nic was momentarily lost in the holy fuck moment of finally knowing the truth, as well as picturing Misha fucking guys…and getting fucked by them. That image needed to be filed away for later, solitary inspection. “But you’re you, Misha. You do outrageous things with a smile and get away with it. No harm, no foul, it’s just Misha.” Nic felt herself getting lost in her excited self-righteousness. “Visibility matters!”

“Yes, it does. I agree.” Misha shot a look at Jensen, but quickly looked back to Nic. “And speaking of visibility, you’re never going to see more than you already have on the show if you keep talking instead of playing. We’ve both bared chest on film before.” 

Nic knew he wanted to change direction, and let him. Smirking, she taunted, “You do realize I’ve been taking it easy on you, right?”

The Saturday night family poker games her dad had insisted on, so that his girls ‘had a skill to fall back on’ if the need should ever arrive, paid off. Once they were seriously playing again, Misha was so busy trying to stay clothed that he had to actually pay attention to the game. Two hands later and both men were down to just their very tight boxer briefs, having lost even their wallets, watches, and (temporarily) wedding bands to their great surprise and Nic’s delight. 

“You card shark,” Jensen muttered, shifting to try and cover him self, preserving some modesty. 

Nic tried to act like she was not looking at the very impressive image Jensen presented, hickies included, as she could tell he was uncomfortable. “You could have folded before shucking your pants.” Misha, however, had no issues with being stared at in his orange briefs straining against muscular thighs, and preened and posed for Nic’s purview readily. 

And what a view it was. From every angle.

That was when a knock on the trailer door called them back from lunch, much to Jensen’s relief and Misha’s downright disappointment.

Misha grumbled as he tossed his cards onto the table and rose to dress. 

Nic raised an eyebrow at Misha. “I owe you one story, so think carefully about what you want to hear.”

Misha’s full body laugh, as he smiled and threw his head back, was gorgeous. Near nakedness exposed the exquisite ripple of stomach muscles and the tendons tensing from bunched shoulders to throat just magnified the beauty. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Nic laughed back, pulling in her latest pot of clothing, divided up the items she had acquired during the game, returning each item to its owner. Holding up Cas’s blue tie, though, she spun it around her index finger. “I’ve seen how many of these are in wardrobe. I’m keeping this one for a souvenir.” 

Crooked and mischievous smile wide, Misha shrugged. “I actually lose those pretty often. Go right ahead.” 

Nic pulled out her inner seductress, deciding to play full out for a few minutes. It was really rare for her to feel so sure of herself and comfortable. Licking her lips, she rubbed the tie against a cheek and gave it a sniff before balling it up into her pocket. She saw Misha’s eyes dilate, and did a mental fist pump.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously down the rabbit hole, people. I have decided to ignore my squeams from writing RPF and just embrace the possibilities. And hope none of the real SPN actors or their families ever, ever read this.

FIC TITLE: Down the Rabbit Hole  
Author- PTBvisiongrrl   
Date- 6/18/18  
Chapters: 8/?  
Rating – PG-13/T? Talks about polyamory, bisexuality and fandom, but not in explicit detail.   
Pairings/Characters- Misha/Jensen; Jensen/Daneel and Misha/Vicki; J/D/M/V mentioned  
Word Count- 3,589  
Warnings- Spoilers-   
Disclaimers- Unfortunately, I don’t own any of these characters, and make absolutely no profit from taking them out to play…so please don’t sue me. If I did own them, there would be a lot more shirtless Winchesters and Angels of the Lord getting some on the show! And Danneel would guest star…wait! I got my wish!  
Summary-   
New/temporary support staff member on-set starts mid-season, and meets the cast. Over the second half of the season, she gets to know Misha and Jensen better and finds out some interesting truths.

Chapter 8

Despite the very interesting poker game, as well as now owing Misha both an Amateur Night appearance AND a kinky sex story, it was not to happen any time soon, despite well-laid plans and the best of intentions. 

Mother Nature, the bitch, decided to deliver Canada another round of winter, right after lunch, and it hung on for most of the next week and a half. All the outdoor shoots had to be re-scheduled, creating chaos in the other department’s already-tight schedules to get alternate sets dressed early. Every scene seemed to require many more takes than it should, even with Jared behaving perfectly. Filming was disrupted enough that the next weekend was rescheduled as make-up days, which meant that neither main star was going to be able to go home to their Vancouver digs between shots, much less all the way to Austin. Even Misha was stuck in Vancouver as well, despite the fact that Bellingham was just over an hour drive away. 

But if Jensen couldn’t get home, part of home was coming to see him. Even with weather and rerouted/cancelled flights, Danneel would be in for at least the early part of next week to meet with the producers about an upcoming guest spot. Neither she nor Gen was willing to travel in this weather with children, however. Jensen was ecstatic to share this news around the set, happier than he had been in days. Sort of like a puppy, all nervous energy and barely contained delight.

Despite knowing Danneel was going to be around at some point soon, Nic was absolutely flustered when Danneel showed up and parked herself in the make-up trailer early one afternoon. Having her back turned towards the door to clean the counter and straighten supplies, with multiple people coming in and out for questions and checking schedules, Nic was thoroughly unprepared to turn around from the mirrored counters and see the curvy auburn-haired woman smiling warmly at her. “Hi, Nic.”

Nic couldn’t help but startle a little, though she recovered rather quickly. Danneel remembers who I am! Finding her voice, Nic smiled back. “Uh, hi, Danneel.” 

Tucking her phone into a pocket and crossing her legs, Danneel gave Nic her full attention. “How are you, Nic?”

“Recovering from a mild heart attack right now. What can I do for you?” Nic asked while fighting for her normal breathing pattern and trying to keep her hands from shaking. 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Danneel shrugged, “and I’ve got some time waiting for Jensen to have a break.” 

“Talk to me?” Nic asked, breathless. “Uh, ok.”

“You look nervous,” Danneel noted, crossing her arms under her chest. 

Nic gave a shrug of confusion. “Just surprised,” she stated, working hard to keep her eyes from dropping to the now-presented cleavage. 

“Sorry,” Danneel paused momentarily, sitting back into her chair and letting her arms rest on its metal curves. “I actually have a business proposition I’d like to discuss with you.” 

The oddity of Danneel’s framing of her request focused Nic on the moment like a bucket of cold water. The shift into another, less prominent position helped some, too. “Do you want me to do your make-up for an event?” Nic prodded.

“Not quite, although I will keep that in mind for the future,” Danneel raised a delicately arched eyebrow. “I’d like to discuss it in private with you, and keep it between us. Need to surprise Jensen. Dinner break tonight, maybe?”

“Ah, sure. I can find some time.” Nic felt her chest muscles loosen microscopically. Private meeting? 

“Don’t worry there. I’ll ok it with Bob,” Danneel assured Nic. “And I’ll have craft services deliver a meal for you to Jensen’s trailer so you don’t have to spend time getting food. Any particular requests?”

“I’m not sure what was being served today, but I’m not a picky eater,” Nic shrugged. “I eat pretty much anything. I’m easy.” 

“Eats anything and is easy.” Danneel smiled with smoky eyes laughing. It wasn’t quite a chuckle that followed her comment, but damn close, and her voice noticeably dropped in register. “Good to know.” 

Nic gulped like a fish, having masterfully but absolutely unintentionally flirted. Did Danneel think Nic was actually flirting with her? Danneel was far out of her league, and Nic knew it. And Danneel was happily married to a man, although they might have an open marriage. There was nothing in particular that would point to Danneel liking women, though, except the fantasies in Nic’s head. “I’ll see you then,” Nic agreed, still pink and flustered beyond the point of recovery. 

A wink and a wave, and Danneel was off, business transacted. 

cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles…cockles

Danneel’s “Come on in!” drifted through the closed door and stiff winter wind immediately following Nic’s knock during the dinner break. 

Danneel greeted her from the kitchen, two condensation-beaded bottles of Family Business dark beer opened and in hand. Taking a mouthful from one bottle, Danneel held out the other for Nic to take. “Interested in trying some Family Business? I brought samples up with me from home.”

Danneel grinned at Nic’s affirmative head nod. “You are in for a treat. This is a new one, my favorite.” Danneel waited for Nic’s reaction to a taste, nodding her head enthusiastically when Nic indicated she liked it. “Told you. Vanilla Sarsaparilla Pilsner. Food is on the way, and Bob okayed a couple hours. You don’t have to be back on-set until seven. Gives us plenty of time.”

Danneel gestured towards the couch, with two place mats, a Styrofoam container, and flatware already set out on the coffee table. Each place also had a bottle of water and a handful of Hershey’s Kisses just off the edge. Nic settled down on the far end of the sofa, and took another generous sip of the delicious beer while she waited for Danneel to sit down as well. “This is really good,” Nic stated, as Danneel settled in.

“I didn’t think it would be so good when Gino and Jensen came up with the idea, honestly,” Danneel shrugged. “But the vanilla gives it a nice subtle sweetness, helps to cut the hops from being too bitter.” 

“You sound like you are really involved in running the brewery? Like the day to day stuff,” Nic added, hoping she hadn’t offended Danneel. 

“Owners got to step in wherever something is needing to be done,” Danneel smiled, placing her bottle on the mat nearest her. “And I do like beer…”

Nic smiled back. “Proof that god loves us,” she joked, feeling her way around a conversation that had her entirely unsettled and nervous.

Danneel smiled back, nodding in agreement. “Definitely. Are you at all into brewing?”

Nic emphatically shook her head. “No, not really. My dad home brewed some when I was little, but didn’t really keep up with it when I was old enough to truly appreciate the process. So while I know the basics, beer isn’t really my thing.” 

Danneel nodded, taking in the information. “So what is your preferred drink then, if not beer?”

Nic couldn’t help but chuckle. “Tequila. Margarita, icy but traditional.”

Pumping her arm, Danneel agreed. “A tequila girl! I feel ya.” Danneel took another long pull from the beer, the bottle slick with condensation. 

“I am totally a stereotype—I like fruity, girly drinks,” Nic admitted sheepishly. Her friends in college had mildly mocked her taste in alcohol whenever they had gone barhopping, because she never really liked the harder alcohols they preferred. 

Danneel frowned before shaking her head. “Nothing wrong with liking what you like, stereotypes be damned.” She held her beer bottle out for a clink, swallowing a toast-portion before speaking. “ Life is much happier when you get to do the things you like to do.” 

Nic felt her agreement to Danneel’s statement in her bones. “Very true,” she added. 

Settling in, crossing her legs Indian-style and putting her back to the arm of the sofa so that she could look directly at Nic, Danneel asked, “Is art something you would like to do as a career?” 

“Totally.” Nic enthusiastically answered. “But I am realistic enough to know that a career in art is not going to pay the bills for quite some time. So I’m still trying to figure out what else I also want to be when I grow up. I’m not committing to anything in particular just yet.”

“No career starts off paying all the bills, trust me,” Danneel laughed, low and breathy. “But you are quite talented, so I think it might not be as difficult as you think it will be. Maybe I can help you make up your mind?” she raised an eyebrow.

“How so?” Nic was more intrigued by the woman in front of her than the offer, but she would listen to anything to keep Danneel talking and that close. 

“Jensen showed me the punk art piece you did of him as Priestly.” Danneel licked her lower lip and yummed. “I think you did an excellent job on that one.” 

Nic closed her eyes and bit her lip, taking a deep breath. “Really? He told you about that?” Nic confirmed, hoping that not all of her comments were passed on, or at least not word-for-word. 

“I had seen your piece before, actually. I immediately remembered it. I thought that it was quite…hot…when I first saw it at a convention.” Danneel’s smile is wide and mischievous. So, I was interested in something similar. Would you be willing to create a piece or two for me?”

Nic’s two mental paths—paid for art and stunning woman talking—were parallel and stubbornly not allowing her to properly process the words coming out of Danneel’s mouth. “Uh, sure.” 

“Awesome!” Danneel ‘s face it up. “So what I want is a full-body portrait of me in punk gear to go with a second portrait, Jensen in his Ten Inch Hero punk-image. Something comic-book-y and HOT, but also realistic in proportion to our natural figures. Like a reversed ending to the movie—Tish goes punk for Boaz instead of him cleaning up for her.” 

Nic’s throat is dry at the thought of drawing Danneel punk, with permission. With encouragement! The process of deciding what outfit to go with, the multiple attempts it would take to get it just right…this would be a project Nic could greatly enjoy. And NOT feel guilty about it. Nic immediately agrees, “I can do that, yeah.”

“What do you usually charge for commissioned pieces?” Danneel tried to nail down specifics, before Nic could change her mind. 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t take your money for this!” Nic shook her head. “Its just nice that you like my art that much. I would be honored to make them for you.”

Danneel argued against the freebie. “You can get paid and be honored, you know. I would feel like I am taking advantage of you if I don’t pay you.”

Nic thought with a mental leer that she’d be fine with any way Danneel wanted to take advantage of her, then shut that thought process down. Not a fan girl right now, but an artist, or want-to-be-artist. Still not a well known or particularly talented artist in her own opinion, but Danneel didn’t seem very interested in Nic’s low self-assessment right now. “I don’t want to get paid.”

Swallowing back a frustrated sigh, Danneel frowned. “I can’t accept this as a gift, not with it being my idea. I need an alternative.”

“I’ll have to think about it, then,” Nic admitted. “I’ve never been paid for my work before. I have no idea what I should charge.”

“Much more than you are trying to get,” Danneel scoffed. She wasn’t sure Nic would actually do the pieces for her if they couldn’t hammer the agreement out now. Then genius struck. “How about I post it to social media and link it your webpage? That should get you a little publicity at least.”

Cheeks red, Nic had to admit to Danneel that, “Well, um, I don’t have a webpage. I don’t even have a professional Twitter.”

“What?” Danneel takes a minute to think through her amazement. “Oh, sweetie, you so need to. You are amazing!” 

Turning redder by the word, Nic shrugged dismissively. “It’s just fan art. No one would really pay for that if it wasn’t fandom specific.” 

An epic eye-roll towards and back away from the ceiling before Danneel insisted, “They would, I’m telling you. You are that good.” 

Nic’s disbelief was clear in her eyes, no doubt, but she tried to be gracious. “Thank you for the compliment.” 

“How about this? You do the portraits for me, and I have a simple webpage set up for you that I can link to, direct the email to your own email address… If you get any requests for work, you will let me pay you…say $100 an hour for however long it takes you to create each piece, or 40 hours max? If you don’t get any orders, we’ll let the page expire and I will happily accept a gift from a SPN fan.” Danneel was excited by her solution, Nic could tell.

Nic shook her head, but ruefully gave in. “You drive a hard bargain. But since I don’t think you are going to take no for an answer…okay. That’s how we’ll do it.”

Danneel, happy, does a little seated happy-dance. The low cut on her t-shirt, and its cling, jiggle delightfully. “Awesome.” 

“Why do you want to help me so much?” Nic gets up the nerve to ask, because she knows nothing in life is free and she would rather know her ultimate cost now if possible. There are always strings attached, even if not explicitly stated, whether obvious or not. It is just the social nature of humanity.

“I told you, Jensen and Misha have talked a lot about you. I liked your art before I knew it was yours.” Danneel seemed to think that that was enough of an explanation, judging from the smile she ended the explanation with. 

“There is definitely another reason somewhere in there,” Nic defiantly insisted even as she was giving in. 

Danneel again rolled her eyes up to and back down from the ceiling so hard Nic felt her own eyes ache in sympathy. “Okay, okay. I will stop looking a gorgeous gift-horse in the mouth and just accept. Thank you, Danneel.” Nic saw a blush spread across Danneel’s cheeks at her use of gorgeous.

“I wouldn’t say gor—“ Danneel started to reply, but was cut off forcefully by Nic.

“I would. So take it, okay?” Nic raised her eyebrow in challenge, even as she shook inside at being this forceful in the conversation. 

Danneel frowned, and Nic sighed this time. “Take the compliment. You still have it, three babies or not.” 

“So sweet, and as pretty inside as out. No wonder the boys are so smitten with you.” Danneel smiled at Nic, emptying her beer bottle before putting it down on the table with a determined smile. “There was also something else I wanted to talk to you about away from big ears.”

Nic was really nervous now, and glad for her brief moment of calm assertiveness that kept her from an anxiety spiral. What would Danneel want to keep from her husband? Did Jensen tell Danneel about strip poker? Was she upset about that? Or did she just want to make sure that Nic would keep any set secrets discovered to herself? “Shoot,” Nic answered, nerves again flaring up into butterflies.

Meeting Nic’s eyes full on, and not looking away, Danneel started to speak. “Whatever Jensen chooses to do, he has my full support, however he decides he needs to be supported. I want you to realize that. He and I are a team, in everything. He is a wonderful husband and father, an amazing man, and I love him with all my heart.” 

Fuck, Nic thinks in that moment. Where is that coming from? And what exactly does that mean? 

“The hickies. I knew about them. Or at least, who gave them to Jensen. I don’t always ask for details.” Danneel shrugged. “But I am absolutely okay with all parts and parties involved in that relationship.” 

Nic’s mental stutter turned into a stalled rainbow wheel of death. She knows, she encourages him…Holy Cow. This is truly a scene from a fanfic. Nic could tell Danneel was waiting for a response, but Nic just couldn’t seem to form words. “Um, okay?” Nic stuttered out, totally unsure of how to respond to that statement and still slightly distracted from watching Danneel this close up.

Danneel could tell this was too much for Nic to process all at once, so she pulled back a little from the danger zone. “I’m going to be back up in a couple weeks, shooting a guest role. Maybe we can have dinner again then and you can show me how far along on the art you are?” 

“Sure. But I’m going to, uh, going to need some things to get started on the project,” Nic nervously asked. 

“Fire away,” Danneel leans back into the couch a bit, emphasizing her very nice cleavage. Nic is certain its accidental, a learned move that a beautiful woman like Danneel didn’t have to think about before owning it for life. Besides, the reason really didn’t make the view any less mouth-watering. 

“We need to commit to a size and medium. I prefer on the smaller side, and don’t like oils.” Nic looked to Danneel for a response. 

Danneel made an indignant sound. “True graphic novel form—size, colors, inking, etc.”

“I like those parameters. I see it a little Hellblazer –esque in my head,” Nic stated, thinking out her process already. “I need some reference photos of you posed how you would like to be in the picture, or a few poses to pick from. And then we will need to discuss a color scheme, or particular clothing choices.” 

“Do you need me in the actually outfit I want to be drawn in, or can we choose a couple examples and synthesize them into one?” Danneel asked enthusiastically.

“In the actual outfit, uh, yes, that would be best if possible,” Nic answered quickly before she could embarrass herself. Punk rock Danneel pictures sent directly to her. Nic would never show them to anyone else, but to have the images… Nic’s breathing was getting uneven, and as thrilled as Nic was at this offer/development, she had immediate, insane anxiety issues. 

Danneel smiled at the girl on her couch, licking her bottom lip and then biting it. “Professional photos, or can I just send a pic from a dressing room?”

Holy god, Nic lost her breath again. “The less busy the background, the better, but phone pics are fine as long as it shows your entire body and outfit.” 

“I love shopping. As soon as I get home, after I spend some time with the kids, I’ll go and send you pics.” Danneel looked quite excited at the assignment. 

Nic swore she had a lady-boner, sitting became so difficult. “That would be very helpful. Uh, what about the pose?”

“I hadn’t gotten that far. I guess I need to think that over.” Danneel considered for a moment. “I’ll have to look through some old photos. I want our poses to go together, but not be the same.”

“That’s probably more important than the outfit, actually.” Nic thought through a mental checklist. “And what modifications you want me to add for punk effect. Lip piercing, or a tattoo.”

“Nose hoop. I’ve always wanted to get one.” Danneel thought more, and shrugged. “But no tattoos stick out in my mind, so I’ll leave anything else to you to decide on that front. I’m headed to Misha and Vicki’s for a day before I head back to Austin. Vicki can help me with the pose pictures. I already told Misha and Vicki I wanted these pieces done.”

Holy shit. Hot ass pictures taken by the poly-pod. And sent to her. Danneel’s phone goes off a second before Nic’s, so both women pull them out to see what the odd coincidence is. “Another winter storm is rolling in over night, so dinner is getting cut short to try and get everything shot ahead of schedule,” Danneel announced. “I guess I’m heading out to Vicki’s earlier than planned tonight.” 

Nic rises and quickly finishes her water, grabbing the handful of kisses to take with her. Chocolate in any form is her kryptonite. “Guess that means back to work for me. I will start on some ideas, rough ‘em out. Pictures will make it go faster, but I can get something down now.”

“I need your number, so I can send the pics.” Danneel waggled her fingers for Nic’s phone. “Let me program mine into yours and send myself a text so I have your number.”

The phone was handed over in a fog. Danneel was going to send Nic pics. In punk clothes. Closing her eyes briefly, Nic nonchalantly pinched herself. Nope, not a dream. Opening her eyes to watch Danneel’s slim fingers and colorful nails slide gracefully over Nic’s contacts list was worth dinner getting cut short. 

Nic got Danneel’s first text as she made her way back to the make-up trailer. “Got your number saved. Will hit you up tomorrow with pics. Have a good night, doll face!”

Doll face. Nic shivered. How was this her life?


End file.
